I Believe You
by Owlix
Summary: What if Regulus Black had a daughter who spent her life in New York City and then transferred to Hogwarts at the beginning of Harry's 5th year? Enter Reggie Dolan, a proud New Yorker with loads of brass and even more sass! Follow her on her adventures through Hogwarts as she gains friends, enemies, and memories.
1. New Adventures

**Chapter One: New Adventures**

I slowly made my way down the crowded hallway, trying to not step on any toes just yet. I had my full hiking backpack on my back and was tugging my school trunk behind me. I was trying to find an empty compartment to stash my stuff in, but every compartment I'd passed so far was full of chattering kids. I didn't want to have to deal with a large group, being completely exhausted from jet-lag at the moment.

"Do you need help?"

I jumped lightly at the dreamy-sounding voice. I looked over and saw a girl standing at the open door of an otherwise empty compartment. She had waist-long, light blond hair and wistful, heavy-lidded gray eyes, and she was smiling serenely at me as she waited for my answer.

"Uh … yeah, thanks," I said, taking a step towards her.

"You're welcome," she said, taking my school trunk and expertly putting it into the empty luggage rack above us. "You seemed like you were sleepwalking. I do that too, sometimes. That's why I wear shoes to bed."

I couldn't help smiling a little. This girl was a bit nutty, but I kinda liked it. She said whatever she wanted and didn't really care if you liked it or not. I noticed just then that her wand was hanging out behind her left ear, and that she was wearing what looked like handmade jewelry: a Butterbeer cork necklace and orange-bead earrings that looked like a mix between plums and turnips.

"That's a pretty smart idea," I said, putting my hiking backpack on top of my trunk. "I'm Reggie Dolan."

"I'm Luna Lovegood," she said dreamily. "You may join me if you like. People never join me, so it's always quiet."

"Thanks so much," I said, situating myself opposite Luna, next to the window. "I had to use an airplane to get here – damn, I hate jet-lag."

"What's 'jet-lag'?" Luna asked.

"It means that, even though it's 11 o'clock here, my body thinks it's 6 o'clock in the morning because that's what it is back home in New York. Long story short, I'm tired, I have a headache, I'm slightly grumpy, and I'm gonna have a hell of a time going to sleep."

"I see. I'll let you rest then," Luna said, whipping out her wand and turning the lights in the compartment slightly down before opening a magazine and reading it upside down.

I smiled gently at her. "Thanks, Luna," I whispered before closing my eyes and snuggling into my thick jacket.

'I correct what I said before,' I thought just before falling asleep. 'I _really_ like this girl. She's a keeper, for sure.'

I don't know how long I was out, but next thing I knew, something smelling like the New York sewers splatted me in the face. I woke up with a bleary roar, rather miffed at finding myself covered in smelly green slime.

"What the hell is this?!" I said, wiping my face clean.

"S-sorry," a plump, brown-haired, buck-toothed boy gasped. "I haven't tried that before … Didn't realize it would be quite so … Don't worry, though, Stinksap's not poisonous," he added nervously as the person next to me spat some onto the Stinksap-covered floor.

"How the hell'd this get here?!" I asked testily, flinging my arms downward to get the worst of it off of me.

At that exact moment, the door to the compartment slid open.

"Oh … hello, Harry," the pretty, dark-haired, Asian girl said nervously. "Um … bad time?"

The person next to me wiped their face with one hand, revealing a young man with glasses.

"Oh … hi," he said blankly, making me assume this was Harry.

"Um …" the girl said. "Well … just thought I'd say hello … 'bye then."

Her face was bright pink as she closed the door. Harry slumped in his seat and groaned quietly.

"Never mind," another girl said. With her red hair and brown eyes, she was pretty too, but in a more fierce way than the girl before. "Look, we can get rid of all this easily. _Scourgify!_" she said after pulling her wand out of her sleeve. The Stinksap vanished, even the smell (thank goodness).

"Sorry," the nervous boy said quietly.

I chuckled. "Well, at least you weren't trying to poison us," I said, leaning over to grin at him. He gave me a small smile in return. I stuck out my long-and-sharp-nailed hand for him to shake. "Reggie Dolan."

"N-Neville Longbottom," he said, shaking my hand with a surprisingly firm grip. I raised an eyebrow as I peered at his hand but then smiled and squeezed back.

"I assume your name is Harry," I said, looking at the dejected, black-haired young man beside me. He nodded, looking over at me with depressed-looking emerald green eyes.

"Harry Potter," he said tiredly.

I blinked in surprise and peered at him closely.

"Really?" I asked. "I thought you'd be taller!"

Harry looked at me like I was crazy. "Why?"

I shrugged. "You're a celebrity. Celebrities are always larger in pictures and stories. Then again, they're always smaller in person, so I don't really know why I'm so surprised," I added, chuckling again. "Anyway, nice to meet ya, Harry Potter. I'm Reggie Dolan."

"Reggie?" he asked, knowing it was mostly a boy's name.

I rolled my eyes. "Short for 'Regina'. I know, stupid name, but Mom said she named me after my dad, so I can't change it."

"Who's your dad?"

I shrugged again. "Mom only told me his first name: 'Regulus'. Honestly, what sick-in-the-head mother would give her son a name like that?!"

I looked back at Harry, and he was staring at me like he'd seen a ghost.

"Regulus _Black_?!" he asked quietly.

I blinked and stared back at him. "Black's my mother's maiden name … or least, that's what she said. Why? D'you know him?"

Harry blinked before glancing over at the fierce girl, looking like he was thinking really hard.

"… I think I know his brother," Harry said quietly. "I could write him and ask, but I'd need your mum's name, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind," I said. "I'll even give you a picture." I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out a copy of a picture of my mom right after she moved to New York. I made many copies of this picture after I learned I was going to Hogwarts because I wanted to see if I could find someone who knew her. I wrote her first name on the back of the picture and handed it to Harry.

"Her name's Nienna," I said as Harry looked at the picture. "Her parents were really into Tolkien and all that."

"Into what?" the fierce girl asked.

"Tolkien," I said, almost amazed that these people hadn't heard of one of my favorite authors. "Y'know, J.R.R. Tolkien? Wrote The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings? Ever heard of 'em?"

She shook her head, flinging her deep red hair around.

"Raised by pureblood wizards," she said. "Sorry. They sound good, though."

"Oh, they are!" I said ecstatically.

"I love those books!" a newcomer said. I turned and saw a girl with bushy brown hair and sparkling brown eyes standing next to a boy with red hair and a long, freckly nose. It had been the girl who had spoken. "That was one of the first books I ever read on my own!"

I stared at her in surprise. "How old were you?"

"About six, I think," she said.

I whistled in amazement. "Damn! That's a heavy read for a six-year-old."

"I didn't understand all of it the first time," she said, "but when I read it again a couple years later, I understood much more."

"Have you read The Lord of the Rings?" I asked.

She grinned and nodded. "I had to skip some parts, though," she said sadly. "Mum and Dad thought they were too violent."

I rolled my eyes. "As if it would be worse than anything you could come up with yourself! Imaginary violence is always worse that real violence."

Harry chuckled, to my surprise. "That's for sure," he said, sounding like a war vet I'd once met.

I gave him a small smile. "Lots of adventures?" I asked.

Harry nodded, giving me a smile in return. "You have no idea."

"Oh, I probably will," I said, grinning mischievously, "'cuz you're stuck with me now. I'll be taking part in your adventures before long!"

To my surprise, Harry looked slightly worried at first, but he wiped that look away to grin back at me.

"If you say so," he said before turning to talk to the redhead and the bushy-haired girl.

I raised my eyebrows, slightly confused at how Harry was treating me. Was he trying to … protect me or something? Well, he had no need to, as far as I was concerned. I'd already been through Hell and back; I wasn't afraid of any so-called "adventure" and I would make sure he knew it.


	2. New Friends and First Enemy

**Chapter Two:**** New Friends and First Enemy**

After some more introductions, I finally knew everyone's name. The redhead was Ron Weasley, the bushy-haired girl was Hermione Granger, and the fierce girl was Ron's little sister, Ginny Weasley. In the middle of the introductions, the "lunch trolley" came by; Harry bought a load of Chocolate Frogs and Pumpkin Pasties, while I bought a bag of Peppermint Toads.

At the moment, Ron and Hermione were complaining about the choices for Slytherin Prefects. Apparently, the students at Hogwarts were split into four groups, as they were at Ilvermorny. Hogwarts' groups were called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, and the students who were in fifth year, like us, could become "prefects", kinda like a hall monitor. Judging by how people talked about the Slytherin Prefects, they weren't exactly the greatest people. One prefect was called simply "Malfoy" and the other, Pansy Parkinson, was a "complete cow", according to Hermione.

"We're supposed to patrol the corridors every so often," Ron said, checking his watch, "and we can give out punishments if people are misbehaving. I can't wait to get Crabbe and Goyle for something …"

"You're not supposed to abuse your position, Ron!" Hermione snapped.

"Yeah, right, because Malfoy won't abuse it at all," Ron said sarcastically.

"So you're going to descend to his level?"

"No! I'm just going to make sure I get his mates before he gets mine."

"Nice," I said, smiling a little. "Going for a pre-emptive strike!" I gave Ron a high five when he grinned at me.

"I'll make Goyle do lines," he said. "It'll kill him, he hates writing." He lowered his voice to a grunt and, while screwing up his face in pained concentration, wrote in midair. "_I … must … not … look … like … a … baboon's … backside …_"

Everyone laughed, but Luna's laughter was the loudest and wildest of us all. She laughed so loudly that she upset the beautiful Snowy Owl that belonged to Harry and the mangy-looking orange Persian cat that belonged to Hermione. Her eyes were swimming with tears as she rocked back and forth, grabbing her sides. Everyone was now laughing at her persisted laughter and the look on Ron's face as he stared at her.

"Are you taking the mickey?" Ron asked, frowning at Luna.

"Are you speaking English?" I snapped back, frowning at him.

"Of course I am," Ron said indignantly.

"He means, 'Are you making fun of me,'" Hermione said, kindly translating the English phrase into American for me.

"Thanks, Hermione," I said. She smiled back at me.

I settled back into my seat and stared out the window at the landscape, my stomach contently full of chocolate and peppermint.

"Anything good in there?" Ron asked after a long while. I looked over and saw that Harry had Luna's magazine and was reading it with Ron looking over his shoulder.

"Of course not," Hermione said derisively. "_The Quibbler_'s rubbish, everyone knows that."

"Excuse me," Luna said, her voice surprisingly steely. Her Irish accent was extremely prominent now. "My father's the editor."

My eyes widened and I couldn't help chuckling. "That would be a fail," I muttered.

"I – oh," Hermione said in embarrassment. "Well … it's got some interesting … I mean, it's quite …"

"I'll have it back, thank you," Luna said coldly, snatching back her magazine and continuing to read it upside down. We were fortunately saved from an awkward silence by the sound of the compartment door opening.

I looked up at a sour-faced near-albino and his two apish thugs. The albino was smirking at Harry with such an arrogant look that I automatically didn't like him.

"What?" Harry asked aggressively.

"Manners, Potter, or I'll have to give you a detention," the albino drawled. "You see, I, unlike you, have been made a prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments."

I rolled my eyes and gave a bored scoff. "Oh please, you're not _that_ important, albino shit. Do the world a favor and shove your head back up your ass so we don't have to look at you anymore."

Everyone in the compartment except Luna howled with laughter; Luna just stared at me like she couldn't believe what had come out of my mouth.

"And what exactly would you know about my arse?" the albino, who I assumed was the mysterious "Malfoy", sneered.

"I know it's just like you," I said with a lazy smirk just like his. "Skinny, dead-ass pale, and so ugly it hurts to look at it."

Now I had Ron laughing as hard as Luna had been a while ago. He was laughing so hard that he was slapping his legs, which had Hermione and Ginny laughing at him. Harry and Luna were staring at me in amazement.

The albino's face was finally showing some color as he glared at me; I guess I'd really pissed him off. Still wearing that lazy smirk, I stood up and walked over to him. I gently placed my hand on his chest and leaned forward flirtatiously.

"Hmm," I said, looking closely at him as if inspecting him. "I thought you'd be hotter up close. Guess not," I said, giving him a small shove that sent him out of the doorway. As I slowly closed the compartment door in his face, I gave him my best flirtatious smirk and a finger-wave. Just to make sure he didn't try anything, I locked the door behind him.

I was surprised by the cheers that erupted behind me. I turned on my heel and stared at everyone with a shocked smile on my face.

"That was bloody brilliant!" Ron crowed. "Where'd you learn that?!"

"You can't survive on the streets of Manhattan without knowing how to trash talk," I laughed.

"Manhattan?" Hermione asked. "Like New York?"

I grinned proudly. "Yep! Reggie Dolan of Manhattan's Upper West Side, at your service," I said, adding a showy bow. "Who was that delightful little rodent?" I asked, pointing at the door.

"That," Hermione said, "was Draco Malfoy. He's the biggest … cockroach in the entire school, and unfortunately he's the smartest of the whole bunch, so he's their leader."

I rolled my eyes and strutted back to my seat. "Fun," I said while still grinning. "So, looks like I've made my first enemy!"

"How're you grinning about that?" Harry asked.

"I'll get more adventures if I have enemies!" I chuckled. "I mean, yeah, he'll be a pain in the ass for sure, but at least I'll never be bored with him around. I can't _stand_ being bored!"

"You're insane," Ginny said, laughing as she shook her head. We all laughed with her until we heard something smacking the window. I turned to see a small owl bouncing against the window with a letter clasped in its beak. I quickly stood up and opened the window, holding the owl to me as it flew at me. After closing the window, I sat back down and let the owl go.

To my surprise, the owl stood proudly on my lap and thrust its chest in my direction, indicating the letter was for me. And lo and behold, I saw my full name – Regina Galadriel Dolan – written on the envelope. I smiled and took the letter from the owl, stroking its little head to thank it. It trilled a little song at me, making me laugh a little. I opened the letter and read it while stroking the owl's feathers.

_Dear Miss Dolan,_

_When the Hogwarts Express stops, you must find Professor Grubbly-Plank. She will be escorting the first year students up to the castle for the Sorting Ceremony. As you are a new student, you will need to be Sorted with the first years. I hope this is to your convenience._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

_Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_P.S. – I have been made aware that you do not have an owl of your own. If it is permissible to you, I would like to bestow upon you the very owl that has delivered this letter to you. He is a Northern Saw-Whet Owl. He does not have a name as of yet; I thought perhaps you might like that honour. – A.P.W.B.D._

"Whoa!" I gasped.

"What is it?"

I looked over at Luna, who had been watching me read the letter.

I smiled down at the little owl and tickled the feathers between his shoulders.

"This little guy's mine!" I said excitedly. "Dumbledore just … gave him to me! I've never had an owl before ... they're illegal to own in the US."

"That was nice of Professor Dumbledore," she said. "What's his name?"

I looked down at the owl and smiled at how he was strutting around and carrying himself like a little king.

'Hmm,' I thought, getting an idea for a name. 'Little king …'

"Regulus," I said. "Means 'little king.' Kinda fits him, doncha think?"

Luna gave me a serene smile.

"Indeed it does," she said. "I like it."


	3. The Sorting Ceremony

**Chapter Three:**** The Sorting Ceremony**

"We'd better get changed," Hermione said after a while. "Ginny, Reggie, Luna, would you join me?"

"Sure," I said. "Harry, would you mind looking after Regulus for me?"

"No problem," he said, gently taking Regulus in his hand and stroking the tiny owl's feathers. I smiled as I stood up to grab my uniform; if there was one thing I liked in a guy, it was the strength to be gentle.

All three of us girls stood up and, after grabbing our uniforms, followed Hermione to the bathroom, which was already overrun with girls. Once we finally got our turn, the four of us dived into the closest available stalls and hurried into our clothes due to the cold.

"Damn!" I swore as I started taking off my sweater. "This dump's colder than Santa's outhouse right now!"

"Welcome to Scotland," Luna said dreamily, making me laugh.

"Why thank you, Luna darling!" I said. "I feel so much warmer now!"

All three of us laughed as we came out, dressed in our uniform. Well, the other three were in a uniform. They froze and stared when they saw that I was in my own version of the uniform. I still wore the black robe, white button-down shirt, black tie, and black pleated skirt, but the similarities ended there. My skirt was mid-thigh-length rather than knee-length; I wore a black modern waist-coat instead of a gray blazer, cardigan, or sweater; I wore black leggings instead of black tights; and I wore my black, taller-than-knee-high, high-heeled boots instead of those ugly black loafers everyone was wearing. Once I added a black fingerless glove to my right hand, a silver and black skull ring on my left middle finger, and a simple touch-up of eyeliner, mascara, eye-shadow, and buff-colored lipstick, I was all ready to go. I knew I was attracting strange looks because my uniform wasn't … well, uniform, but I didn't really care.

"You look very nice," Luna said, surprising me a little. "That look has a lot of attitude and strength, just like you."

I gave Luna a wolfish grin.

"Thanks, Luna!" I said. "By the way, I like your jewelry. Did you make them yourself?"

Luna looked surprised that I'd repaid her compliment and proud of her jewelry.

"Yes, I did," she said, smiling a special smile as we walked back to our compartment. Harry, Ron, and Neville all gave me a long look but didn't say anything about my look. A minute later, the train started slowing down and everyone else started getting their luggage ready. I had to wait for Harry to get his Snowy Owl out of the way before I could get my hiking backpack and school trunk. I had Regulus perched on top of my head, which was probably the safest spot for him at the moment. I started taking my luggage off the train with me, but Harry stopped me and told me that the luggage will be taken up to the school separately.

When we got out to the platform, I remembered Dumbledore's letter.

"Who's Professor Grubbly-Plank?" I asked Harry, who looked very surprised at my question.

"Left field, I know," I said wearily. "Dumbledore said to follow her and the first years to the castle."

Before Harry could speak, I heard a brisk female voice calling out, "First years line up over here, please! All first years to me!"

"That's her," Harry said, pointing at a grey-haired woman who was swinging a lantern and waving her free arm to get people's attention.

"Thanks," I said, giving Harry a smile. "Maybe we'll be in the same House. Which one are you in?"

"Gryffindor," Harry said proudly. "You'll be a Gryffindor too, or I'll eat Hedwig," he said confidently, nodding down at the beautiful Snowy Owl in his arms.

"Oh good heavens!" I cried jokingly. "Well, I'd better make sure I get in Gryffindor. Don't want the death of that beautiful owl on my conscience."

When Harry smiled and chuckled at my tone, I felt my stomach give a little swoop, surprising me a little. I had to force myself to not giggle; I especially hated it when girls giggled. Blushing slightly at how awkward the atmosphere suddenly got, I smiled and said my goodbyes, handing Regulus to Harry for safe-keeping, before hurrying over to Professor Grubbly-Plank. I went into my robe pocket and dug out Dumbledore's letter, just in case.

"Are you Professor Grubbly-Plank?" I asked.

"Yes," she said briskly. "And you are?"

"Reggie Dolan," I said with a smile. "I'm a new student at Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore told me to find you when I got here."

"Well, you've found me," she said. "Line up with the other first years, please."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, sensing this was a woman to respect.

Once all the first years had shown up, we headed off toward the lake, where hundreds of small rowboats were waiting for us.

"Four people to a boat!" Professor Grubbly-Plank said. "Come on, quickly now!"

I immediately hurried to a boat and held it steady as three terrified-looking girls clambered into it. When I climbed in myself, I looked down for the oars.

"Uh … where are the oars?" I called to Professor Grubbly-Plank.

"You won't need them," she said. "They'll go when the fleet is full."

I blinked and said, "OK?" before sitting down awkwardly in the back of the boat.

When everyone was ready, true to Professor Grubbly-Plank's word, the boats pushed themselves into the water and propelled themselves across the lake. I looked around at what I could see of the scenery, but I couldn't see much because of the shadows.

"Coming up on Hogwarts Castle!" Professor Grubbly-Plank called back. "You'll see it just ahead after the next turn."

I looked up in awe as the boats came around a turn … and the most spectacular castle I'd ever seen came into view. Every window was glowing with firelight, making the dark stone glow like an earthy jack-o-lantern. Even though I was four years older than these little kids, I was easily as awestruck as they were by the sight. It was – dare I say it? – magical!

We were left in a small room while Professor Grubbly-Plank went to go find someone. I sat on the windowsill, trying to ignore the first years' stares.

After maybe five minutes of waiting, the door opened and revealed a tall, dark-haired, severe-looking woman in elegant emerald-green robes.

"Follow me, please," she said crisply before spinning on her heel and marching away. We all hurried after her, immediately realizing that this woman was one to obey.

We stopped at the top of a marvelous stone staircase, where the woman was waiting for us.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said firmly. "I am Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House. Now, in a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates, but before you can take your seats, you must be Sorted into your Houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. While you are here, your House will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn you points; any rule-breaking and you will lose points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points wins the House Cup. Wait here for a moment. I will be back shortly."

I leaned against the banister and watched the kids as they discussed the Sorting ceremony. They all seemed insanely nervous about what they would have to do; some kids wondered if they would have to do a spell, while others said they'd have to wrestle a troll or have a race on broomsticks. I shook my head and smiled; I'd had the same weird imagination when I was their age.

I couldn't help but think about my initial Sorting at Ilvermorny. I'd been so intimidated to see all those students looking down at me from the balcony, but I'd relaxed when I saw some of them smile and wave at me. When my name had been called, I'd stood on the Gordian Knot and waited for a House to choose me. Everyone had been shocked when the carvings for both Wampus and Thunderbird Houses began fighting over me. I'd actually asked both Houses to make their cases before choosing House Thunderbird. I had been told that House Thunderbird favored adventurers, and I viewed this whole part of my life as one gigantic adventure, so it had been a fairly easy choice.

Finally, Professor McGonagall came back carrying a three-legged stool and a very old and frayed wizard's hat.

"We're ready for you," she said.

We got into a line and made our way into the dining hall. I looked around at the students, seeing four long tables full of them. When I saw Luna, I returned her serene smile and winked at her. Turning, I saw Ron waving wildly at me, Harry and Hermione grinning at the both of us. I gave them a British-style salute before seeing Harry point upwards. I looked up and almost tripped over my own feet as I gaped in shock.

There wasn't a damn ceiling!

All I saw were thousands of lit candles illuminating the cloudy night sky!

I turned back to Harry to see him giving me a grin. I felt that weird stomach swoop again and turned away after smiling back at him.

Professor McGonagall had us line up in front of the teachers and face the crowd. I took a deep breath, trying to center myself after my shock at the apparent lack of a ceiling and the unsettling yet exhilarating swooping in my stomach when Harry smiled at me. I looked down at a boy next to me, who was visibly trembling. Feeling a bit sorry for the poor tyke, I gently placed a hand on his head.

"It's OK," I whispered at him when he looked up at me. "We'll just put the hat on and it'll tell us where to go, kay?" Mom had told me about Hogwarts's Sorting ceremony, but how she knew, I had no idea.

The boy gave me a nervous smile and a nod before turning back to look at the hat, which had been placed on the stool in front of us. I then noticed that the school seemed anxious as they looked at the hat, like they were waiting for it to do something. I was surprised when the damn thing actually began to sing!

_"In times of old when I was new_

_And Hogwarts barely started_

_The founders of our noble school_

_Thought never to be parted:_

_United by a common goal,_

_They had the selfsame yearning,_

_To make the world's best magic school_

_And pass along their learning._

_"Together we will build and teach!"_

_The four good friends decided_

_And never did they dream that they_

_Might someday be divided,_

_For were there such friends anywhere_

_As Slytherin and Gryffindor?_

_Unless it was the second pair_

_Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?_

_So how could it have gone so wrong?_

_How could such friendships fail?_

_Why, I was there and so can tell._

_The whole sad, sorry tale._

_Said Slytherin, "We'll teach just those_

_Whose ancestry's purest."_

_Said Ravenclaw, "We'll teach those_

_Whose intelligence is surest."_

_Said Gryffindor, "We'll teach all those_

_With brave deeds to their name."_

_Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach the lot,_

_And treat them just the same."_

_These differences caused little strife_

_When first they came to light._

_For each of the four founders had_

_A house in which they might_

_Take only those they wanted, so,_

_For instance, Slytherin_

_Took only pure-blood wizards_

_Of great cunning just like him._

_And only those of sharpest mind_

_Were taught by Ravenclaw_

_While the bravest and the boldest_

_Went to daring Gryffindor._

_Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest_

_And taught them all she knew,_

_Thus, the houses and their founders_

_Maintained friendships firm and true._

_So Hogwarts worked in harmony_

_For several happy years,_

_But then discord crept among us_

_Feeding on our faults and fears._

_The Houses that, like pillars four_

_Had once held up our school_

_Now turned upon each other and_

_Divided, sought to rule._

_And for a while it seemed the school_

_Must meet an early end._

_What with dueling and with fighting_

_And the clash of friend on friend._

_And at last there came a morning_

_When old Slytherin departed_

_And though the fighting then died out_

_He left us quite downhearted._

_And never since the founders four_

_Were whittled down to three_

_Have the Houses been united_

_As they once were meant to be._

_And now the Sorting Hat is here_

_And you all know the score:_

_I sort you into Houses_

_Because that is what I'm for._

_But this year I'll go further,_

_Listen closely to my song:_

_Though condemned I am to split you_

_Still I worry that it's wrong,_

_Though I must fulfill my duty_

_And must quarter every year_

_Still I wonder whether sorting_

_May not bring the end I fear._

_Oh, know the perils, read the signs,_

_The warning history shows,_

_For our Hogwarts is in danger_

_From external, deadly foes_

_And we must unite inside her_

_Or we'll crumble from within_

_I have told you, I have warned you..._

_Let the Sorting now begin."_

When the crowd finished applauding, Professor McGonagall called out names of first years to be Sorted.

"Abercrombie, Euan."

The trembling boy next to me stumbled over to the stool and jammed the hat on his head; if it wasn't for his large ears, it would have gone down to his shoulders.

"Oh, poor kid," I muttered sympathetically.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted. Harry's House clapped loudly as shy Euan hurried down to their table and sat down, looking as if he wished to disappear from view right then and there.

The Sorting took a very long time; some students were Sorted right away, while some took upwards of an entire minute to be Sorted. Finally, the last of the first years were in their seats and I was left alone in front of the teachers.

I turned when I heard someone standing up behind me. I saw a tall, thin, and very _old_ man with a long white beard and sparkling light blue eyes that looked eons younger than the rest of him. He lifted his long, tapered hands and began to speak.

"Welcome, welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" he cried jovially. I started getting more than a little angry, thinking that he'd forgotten all about me, even though I was standing right in front of him. What he said next alleviated all my fears.

"This year, we have a very special treat!" he said in a musical accent that sounded kind of similar to Luna's. "We have a transfer student, coming all the way from Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in America to bless our halls. Please join me in giving a warm Hogwarts welcome to Miss Regina Dolan!"

The entire hall erupted into cheers and applause, teachers and students alike. Despite how much I loved being in the spotlight, this genuine welcome overwhelmed me a little. I managed to give them a slightly awkward curtsy before heading to the stool to be Sorted. The hat was a little big on my head, but I could see under the brim. I peered over at Harry and gave him a slightly embarrassed smile before jumping at the sound of a voice in my head. I recognized it as the hat's voice.

'_Oh my, my, my. What a strong young witch! Determined, confident, fierce, protective, intelligent, kind-hearted … and so vulnerable …'_

_'Excuse me?'_ I thought. '_I'm anything __**but**__ vulnerable!'_

'_On the outside, indeed,_' the hat replied. '_But deep inside you, I can sense that shy, insecure part of you that aches to be acknowledged. I suppose you can say that is the real you, and the strength you portray is a mere cover.'_

_'Like hell, it is! I don't need you to tell me who I am because I already know, dammit! Look, just shut up about me and put me in Gryffindor already. Harry said he'd eat his owl if I didn't.'_

I was surprised to hear the hat laughing – _out loud_. It sounded like Ron when he'd laughed at the insults I'd given Malfoy on the train. It barely managed to gasp the word "Gryffindor" between gales of laughter, causing a round of applause from the Gryffindor table. As Professor McGonagall gingerly removed the guffawing hat from my head, it howled something about it not hearing such nerve from a student for an entire generation.

"Excuse me," I said, feeling a weird urge to get more details. I took the hat from Professor McGonagall and jammed it back on to my head.

'_Who?_' I asked, knowing the hat would know what I was asking.

_'Sirius Black! Fairly demanded to be put with a friend of his! Refused to go anywhere else! Oh, what nerve! So refreshing to this moldy old cap!'_

Blinking in surprise, I took the still-hooting hat off and handed it to Professor McGonagall with an apologetic smile. I then hurried off to Harry and the others, who had saved a seat for me across from Harry.

"What the bloody hell'd you do?" Ron asked, still staring at the hat.

"Told it Harry would eat his owl if I didn't get put in Gryffindor," I said with a confident shrug. That made the trio laugh, distracting them from how shaken I actually was. I'd never been figured out so quickly before; no one had dared to assume I was anything but the confident, strong, and slightly arrogant virago I was. For someone to see the part of me that I'd hidden deep in the dark of my mind so quickly and decisively was very unnerving.


	4. I Did It Brilliantly

**Chapter Four:**** I Did It Brilliantly**

Before the food came, the old man stood up and spoke again.

"To our newcomers, welcome! To our old hands – welcome back! There is a time for speech making, but this is not it. Tuck in!"

I was surprised into laughter, quickly relaxing at the thought of a good warm dinner. I piled my plate high with mashed potatoes and gravy, mixed veggies slathered in melted butter, and fried chicken.

"Ah," I sighed, looking at my plate. "Paradise …"

I blocked out Harry and Ron's conversation with a ruff-wearing ghost and just dug in to my amazing meal. When dessert came up, I had myself a thick slice of what was labeled as "chocolate gateau". It looked like chocolate cake to me, so I just helped myself. The food was absolutely fantastic! It hit exactly the right buttons, making me feel more at home with every bite.

"Good?" Harry asked, smirking in amusement at me. I nodded ecstatically, my mouth too full of food to speak properly. I felt that weird swooping feeling when Harry laughed at my response. I felt my cheeks warm up again and suddenly felt very self-conscious about the fact that I wasn't eating like a lady, had my elbows on the table, and probably had food all over my face.

Dammit, what the hell was the matter with me?!

I'm Reggie Dolan, for Merlin's sake! Reggie Dolan doesn't get self-conscious, especially around boys!

Besides, Harry wasn't my type! I looked more for the bad-boy biker type, not the quiet, insecure, brooding, helpful, sweet, funny, cute …

Whoa, whoa, whoa!

I gave my head a firm shake to get rid of those fluffy thoughts and focused almost obsessively on my cake. I looked over at Hermione when she nudged me and turned my gaze back to my cake when I saw her give me a knowing look. I'd be getting interrogated later, I just knew it.

When my food was gone, I noticed that the old man, who Hermione had told me was Dumbledore, had stood up again. Everyone shut up as they waited for him to speak.

"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices. First years ought to know that the forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students – and a few of our older students ought to know by now too." I noticed Harry, Ron, and Hermione smirking at each other and assumed that they'd been in there multiple times before.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door.

"We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons while Professor Hagrid is on leave; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

While the room applauded politely, Harry leaned across the table to murmur, "That Umbridge woman, she works for the Ministry. Directly under Fudge, the Minister for Magic."

I raised an eyebrow in disapproval but didn't say anything because Dumbledore was still talking.

"Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the –"

He broke off at the sound of a polite cough. Everyone turned and saw a squat, round, distinctly toad-like woman stand at her place at the table. She was dressed in a fluffy ensemble of sweater, pencil-skirt, hat, and pumps, all in various nasty shades of pale pink. She slowly walked around the table, towards Professor Dumbledore. It was clear to me that she wanted to say something and didn't care that she was being rude.

"Thank you, Headmaster," she simpered, "for those kind words of welcome. And how lovely to see your bright, happy faces smiling up at me!"

Harry and I glanced around. No one looked bright or happy, and no one was smiling. I wasn't surprised, though. Who would smile when some lady talks to them as if they were in kindergarten?

"I'm sure we're all going to be very good friends!" she continued.

"That's likely," I heard two boys mutter from down the table. I smirked, glad to hear that some people still had their brains.

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. Although each headmaster has brought something new to this historic school," she gave a polite nod at Dumbledore, who nodded back, "progress for the sake of progress must be discouraged. Let us preserve what must be preserved, perfect what can be perfected, and prune practices that ought to be … _prohibited!_" She whispered the last word conspiratorially and gave a bright smile and girlish giggle. Dumbledore led a barely polite round of applause, which I refused to join.

"What a load of waffle," Ron muttered.

"That's certainly one way to put it," I said, darkly glaring up at that hateful, pink, fluffy toad.

"You heard all that, too?" Hermione asked me, matching my dark look with a fierce one of her own.

I nodded and said, "You mean the part where the government is taking control of the school? Yeah, I heard that pile of bullshit."

Hermione jumped slightly at my language but gave me a grim smile after a moment, seeming to agree with my description of it.

Just then, there was the sound of clattering and banging; apparently, the student body had been dismissed. Hermione leapt to her feet, looking flustered.

"Ron, we're supposed to show the first years where to go!" she said.

"Oh yeah," Ron said, who had obviously forgotten. "Hey – hey you lot! Midgets!"

I burst into gales of laughter. Seriously, Ron was hilarious!

"_Ron!_" Hermione gasped.

"Well, they are, they're titchy …"

"Only because you're a damn bean pole, you idiot!" I called, still laughing.

I even got Hermione to laugh with that one. She called the first years over, still slightly giggly. I saw my little buddy Euan coming up and gave him a smile and wave. He smiled back at me, but then a blond boy next to him got a scared look on his face. He whispered something into Euan's ear, causing Euan to look very frightened as he looked over at Harry.

Frowning, I marched over to the boy and planted my hand on his head, gripping his hair tightly as I made him look at me.

"You got a problem with my friend Harry?" I growled.

"H-H-He's c-c-crazy!" the boy stammered. "H-He said he saw … Y-Y-Y-You-Know-Who!"

"No, I don't know who!" I barked. "And I don't _care_ who! Harry's _my _friend, and you will _not_ call him crazy or I'll show you just how crazy _I _am! Do I make myself clear, maggot?!"

"Y-Yes, ma'am!" the boy screeched, scampering after the rest of the first years as soon as I let him go.

I turned to watch him run away and came face-to-face with a shocked Gryffindor House. Harry was at the very front of the crowd, looking both stunned and grateful.

"What?" I asked, getting all blustery with all this surprise attention. "Can't a girl defend her friend?" I walked up to Harry and slipped my arm through his.

"So, where's our roost?" I asked.

"Uh … this way," Harry said, escorting me through the hallways like a proper English gentleman. I knew we were attracting a lot of attention, but I didn't know if it was me or Harry getting more of it. We went up some stairs and down some different hallways, Harry showing me different shortcuts along the way, until we came to a life-size portrait of a large lady in a fancy pink dress.

"Password?" she asked.

"Uh …" Harry muttered, realizing he had no idea.

"No password, no entrance," the lady said disdainfully.

"Harry, I know it!" Harry and I turned at the sound of the excited voice and saw Neville jogging toward us. "Guess what it is? I'm actually going to be able to remember it for once!" He waved the stunted cactus he held in his arms. "_Mimbulus mimbletonia!_"

"Correct," the lady said and her portrait swung open like a door, revealing a circular hole in the wall behind her.

"Impressive security system," I said with a grin as Harry and Neville let me climb through the hole first. Like I said, proper English gentlemen.

The cozy, circular room I came to was full of people who had flopped in squashy armchairs and couches. The fireplace was full of a warm, crackling flame that made me think of camping. Everyone was chattering away, but as soon as they realized Harry and I were in the room, the chattering faded to whispers and then turned to nothing. I looked around and saw that everyone was staring at Harry. As we passed one kid, I looked over his shoulder at the newspaper he was holding. The headline said, "Potter or Plotter?" and had a huge picture of Harry on it.

Before I could mention it, Harry spoke to the two boys.

"Dean. Seamus. Good holiday?" he asked politely.

"Alright," the black boy said. "Better than Seamus's anyway."

The boy with the newspaper, Seamus, set the paper down and stood up, his shoulders and fists tense.

"Me mam didn't want me to come back this year," he said loudly, his Irish accent very thick. It seemed to me that he was aching to pick a fight.

"Why not?" Harry said, shifting so that I was more fully behind him.

"Let me see, eh … because of you," Seamus said, glaring at Harry. "The _Daily Prophet_'s been saying a lot of stuff about you, Harry, and about Dumbledore as well."

"Well, your mum believes them?" Harry asked angrily.

"Well, no one was there the night Cedric died," Seamus said.

"Then I guess you should read the _Prophet_, then," Harry said bitterly, "like your stupid mother. It'll tell you everything you need to know."

"Don't you dare talk about my mother like that!" Seamus cried.

"I'll have a go at anyone who calls me a liar!" Harry said loudly.

"And you're asking for it!" I called from behind Harry, causing everyone to look at me. I firmly stepped forward to glare the angry Irishman right in the eye. "You're the one who chose to pick a fight in public, so you're just gonna have to deal with the gloves coming off. You got a problem with that, _Mick_?"

The atmosphere immediately tensed. Seamus glared ferociously at me, breathing hard through his nose as he tried to contain his rage.

"Let me ask you guys something," I said, deliberately turning my back on Seamus. "Before all this shit with _Lord Voldemort_ started, who did you think would have been the last person in the entire world to lie about him?" I waited for a moment, glaring straight into the eyes of the crowd, who were shocked that I'd said his name.

"Harry," I heard Ron say as he came forward. "Harry's the last person who would lie about You-Know-Who. He always has been."

"Exactly," I said, giving Ron a smile. "So, if he wouldn't have lied before, what makes you think he would be lying now?" Again, the glare into the crowd; this time, many people looked away in guilt.

I scoffed and said, "I thought Gryffindor was the brave House, the House where people stood up for what was right instead of hiding behind their mommy's skirts because she says there's no such thing as _You-Know-Who_." I made sure to look straight at Seamus when I made the "mommy's skirts" comment and say "You-Know-Who" in the most nauseating, simpering tone I could muster.

"If Harry says Voldemort's back, then he's back," I snarled. "If you can't accept that, Gryffindor's nothing but a bunch of cowards!"

To my surprise, Seamus rushed me, his fists balled tightly in front of him. I met him with a left cross to the eye, making him stagger back and cover his face.

"You wanna go?" I roared, clenching my fists. "You wanna rumble, Mickey? Well, bring it! Come on!"

Ron took a step forward, but he glanced behind me at Harry and paused. I figured Harry was either all for letting me beat the shit out of Seamus or worried about me going nuts on Ron for trying to stop me.

Either way, it was a good call.

Seamus glared at me and then looked around at everyone else before reluctantly backing off.

"No way am I gonna fight a tart," he snapped.

I threw back my head and roared with laughter, surprising everyone. I guess they thought I'd hit Seamus for that.

"So much for the Fighting Irish!" I sneered. "I thought you guys loved getting into fist fights! If you're afraid you'll hurt me, don't be. I'll kick your ass before you can even touch me!"

Seamus just shook his head and went back to his newspaper. I glared at him for a moment before marching over, ripping the paper out of his hands, and tossing it in the fire. I gave him a look like, "What are you gonna do about it?"

Before he could reply, Hermione came up to me and slipped her arm through mine, grinning a mile wide.

"There you are, Reggie!" she chirped. "I've been looking for you! C'mon, let me show you our dormitory!" Without waiting for an answer, she dragged me up the stairs. I shot a confused glance at Ron and Harry, who were grinning at me. I felt the weird stomach-swoop again just before Hermione dragged me out of sight.

"You've made enemies out of the rest of Gryffindor House, you know," Hermione said, grinning over at me.

"True," I grinned back, "but I did it brilliantly."


	5. A New Year

**Chapter Five:**** A New Year**

After Hermione dragged me to our dormitory, which was thankfully empty, she helped me figure out which bed was mine. Turns out Harry had been right about the luggage; someone or something had carried it up here and deposited it all next to each student's bed. Hermione and I were ecstatic to find that our beds were next to each other.

I flopped down on my bed and harrumphed at the canopy over my head.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, seeming to almost demand an answer rather than just ask for it.

"Hmm … I'm not sure," I said, shrugging a little. "Maybe I just need to sleep it off."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, now seeming a bit worried. "You know, keeping stuff in isn't that healthy. If you have something to say, you can trust me."

I sat up and turned to smile at her reassuringly.

"I know that," I chuckled. "It's just … I don't really know how to say it, or even _what _to say for that matter."

Hermione looked at me for a moment before sighing and lying down on her bed.

"Sorry if I'm nagging," she said tiredly. "I just … Harry's been holding too much in, and he's starting to bite our heads off because of it. I don't want you to start doing the same thing."

I chuckled again. "No worries about that. If I have a problem, I'll say something. BFF's honor."

Hermione lifted her head and stared at me in shock.

"BFF?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah," I shrugged. "Y'know, Best Friends Forever?"

Hermione's reaction greatly surprised me. Her narrow brown eyes widened and sparkled like she was about to cry. I noticed a slight trembling in her bottom lip, but that quickly disappeared before she came over to wrap her arms around me.

"Her-Hermione?!" I gasped in surprise.

"S-Sorry," she sniffled, going back to sit on her bed as she wiped her eyes. "It's just … I've never had a girl friend before. All the other girls here are just so … shallow and I can't be real friends with them. I've always been friends with boys, and they're often intimidated by me so even that's awkward sometimes.

"I guess I just … want someone my age to talk to about … well, girl stuff. I can't talk about that with Harry or Ron, and I don't trust any of the other girls enough to tell them."

I blinked at Hermione, surprised that someone so confident could be so lonely. It was kinda familiar …

"I know how you feel," I said quietly, making Hermione look up at me. "I've always intimidated people; it's how I keep myself safe. Yeah, a lot of people know who I am, but I've never let people close enough to really _know_ me, y'know? There are just too many … bad things in my life for me to want people to get close."

"So … why us?" Hermione asked.

"I dunno," I shrugged. "Something about you guys makes me feel like I can trust you. I mean, I've never laughed as hard as I have at Ron's jokes. _Never!_ Luna, she's just so sweet and so … _Luna_, y'know? And Ginny's so fiery and so … strong. And you … you're almost like the sister I've never had; you get why I'm so scary and you know Tolkien! I mean, come on; how can we not be friends?!"

"What about Harry?" Hermione smirked.

I couldn't help looking away slightly as my face burned.

"He's … I dunno, he's … he makes me feel … good, somehow. He's helpful, he's sweet, he's _gentle_, and he's got the _greatest smile _…"

"I knew it!" Hermione crowed excitedly. "I saw you get flustered at dinner. You fancy Harry, don't you?!"

"N-No!" I cried defensively. "I mean, I like him, but I don't '_like him_' like him."

"Not yet," Hermione smirked again, getting a very devious look in her eye. I couldn't help feeling anxious and a little excited at the thought of Hermione playing matchmaker.

"W-We'll see," I said, trying to muster up another confident smirk. I chuckled when a thought came to me. "Maybe I can help you and Ron."

I burst into laughter when Hermione turned bright pink and began to bluster at me. After a while, though, Hermione calmed down and began to laugh along with me.

Our laughter was cut short when four more girls came into the room. Two of them were very giggly, while the other two kinda faded into the background a bit.

When one of the giggly girls saw me, she immediately started laughing and gave me what she probably thought was a death glare before hurrying to put her PJs on. I couldn't help chuckling at how pathetic her anger was. I mean, seriously; her "death glare" couldn't even scare a mouse!

"I suppose you think you're SO clever!" she sneered at me.

"Nah, that's 'Mione's job," I said nonchalantly, making Hermione chuckle.

"And what's your job?!" she asked, starting to get a bit screechy. "Spreading Potter's crazy around?!"

Next thing I knew, I was on my feet, fists clenched and death glare fixed on her. She immediately began to squirm and try to back away, but I refused to let her get away with this.

"My job," I hissed, "is to support my _friend_, Harry Potter! And your job is to shut your big, fat mouth and WAKE THE HELL _UP, you damn Dorcus!_ Voldemort is back, whether you like it or not!"

I spun around and marched back to my bed, drawing the curtains around the bed to end the conversation. I heard the other girls whispering, but I was too riled up to care. I whipped out an enchanted Discman I'd smuggled into the school and started listening to the awesome music of Michael Jackson's "HIStory" album, trying to ignore the slight skipping issues that Hogwarts' magical atmosphere created. Hermione poked her head in about twenty minutes later to tell me that the coast was clear. I hurried to the bathroom to wash my face and get in my PJs (gray sweatpants and a blue zip-up hoodie) before hurrying back to the dorms.

All of the other girls, except Hermione, were already in bed and trying to go to sleep. Hermione was half-way through a monster-sized book that looked to be one of our textbooks for this year. Before I got into bed, I cast protective enchantments on my trunk, wardrobe, and bed to make sure no one tried to murder me in my sleep. I glanced over at Hermione, who seemed a bit shocked as she looked up from her book.

"What?" I asked, shrugging a little. "I don't want Giggle One and Giggle Two getting any ideas."

"Anyone else on that list?" Hermione asked, her dark eyes seeming to see more than I was showing.

I blinked and sat down on my bed before looking up at her and saying, "No one on this continent. So far, anyway."

"People back in New York?" Hermione asked.

I swallowed slightly and nodded.

"And a couple girls at Ilvermorny," I said. "If you think the Giggles are bad … well, they ain't got nothin' on the Bishop Sisters."

"Girly?" Hermione asked, already flinching a little.

I gave her a dead-pan look and said, "Fake boobs, fake blond hair, fake-bake tan, fake nails, fake smiles … everything about them is fake. I call them Barbie Bishops, behind their back and to their face."

Hermione chuckled a little before reaching over to gently squeeze my shoulder.

"Get some sleep," she said kindly. "I'm sure the jet lag is going to be torture."

"Thanks, 'Mione," I said, falling back onto my bed. After taking a deep breath, I wrapped myself in the thick red-and-gold quilt draped over the bed, falling asleep in what seemed like a mere moment.

My dreams were very weird that night. I could see a much younger version of my mom talking to a young man with dark hair and stoic, aristocratic features. They seemed to be arguing about something, but I couldn't quite make out what they were saying. The scene faded to show a tall, dark-haired man standing over me with a darkly furious look on his face.

_"You think you can get away from me, freak?!" he snarled, raising an impossibly-long knife in his fist._

_"No!" I couldn't help crying out. "No, please –"_

_I let out a slight yelp as he brought his fist down, the blade of the knife cutting deep into my leg. I went down hard, but I quickly forced myself to stand and run as hard as I could._

_"You'll never get away from me, you bastard freak!" I heard him roar. I could hear his heavy boots making loud thumps as he raced after me. "No escape! No freedom! No sanctuary! No matter where you are, I'll find you! I'll beat your head in, I'll rip the skin off your bones, I'll tear you apart! You'll never be safe, you hear me!"_

_His shouts grew louder and louder as I ran harder and faster, trying to escape him with everything I had in me. He began to throw rocks at me in an attempt to trip me up. He succeeded a couple times, but I managed to stand back up and keep going before he could get to me._

_Finally, I was staring at the edge of a cliff. I couldn't make myself stop, so I ended up hanging from the precipice by my fingertips. He came up then and began to slowly crush my fingers under his steel-toed boot._

_"You'll never belong," he growled as he sneered at me. "You'll never be worth it, never be needed, never be wanted. You'll die young, alone, and more worthless than you were the day you were born."_

_He punctuated that phrase with one final stomp on my fingers, forcing me to let go._

_Normally, this was where I'd wake up, just as I started to feel like I was falling. But this time, I kept falling and falling and falling … until I was caught by a strong arm and held to a leanly muscular chest._

_"It's alright, you're safe," I heard a familiar voice say. "I've got you. I won't let you fall."_

_I started to look up to see who it was, but just before the mouth came into view …_

"Reggie, wake up! Class is in thirty minutes!"

"Whazzit, whazzy, wha!" I cried blearily as Hermione's urgent voice woke me up. I noticed Hermione was trying so hard not to laugh, so I knew she'd woken me up without really needing to.

"I hate you right now," I groaned as I fell face-first into my pillow.

"Sorry, couldn't resist!" she giggled. "Class starts on the first Monday of the term. Two days from now."

I couldn't resist. I picked up my pillow and chucked it at her before going face-first into the mattress. Judging by the yelp and slight thud, I'd hit my mark.

"Go the hell away and let me sleep, woman!" I growled. "I need my beauty sleep!"

"Trust me, you don't need beauty sleep," Hermione said, yanking my blankets off. "What you need is to get over the jet lag, and the best way to do that is to set a clear daily schedule. You'll wake up now, go through your day, and go to bed at nine or ten tonight. Come on, up and at 'em!"

"Go away!" I whined, desperate for more sleep.

I heard her sigh and walk away. Convinced I'd won, I burrowed into my blankets, starting to fall asleep again. Next thing I knew, my entire bed was soaked in icy-cold water. I grabbed my wand and began waving it around, roaring like a bear freshly woken up from hibernation. I ended up standing on my bed in my soaked PJs with my wand in my hand, glaring down at a devilishly smug Hermione, who had an empty tankard in her hands.

Grumbling every swear word I knew under my breath, I shoved past her and into the shower, only to yelp in shock when the water in there was just as cold as what had woken me up.

"You wake up late, you get a cold shower," Hermione sang from the bathroom door.

I ripped open the shower curtains and glared at her with everything I had in that moment.

"I REALLY hate you right now!" I snarled.

"I know," Hermione smirked as she waltzed out of the room, leaving me to take the quickest shower I'd ever had and get dressed in a similar version of the uniform I'd worn yesterday. I didn't add the gloves or the ring, but I did put on loads of leather bracelets and dark-colored makeup. I left my hair down to air-dry, too tired to think of a hairstyle for today, and blearily stomped down the stairs to the common room, where Hermione and the boys were waiting for me.

Harry surprised me with a steaming mug of something. I all but snatched it out of his hands and breathed in the wondrous smell of espresso. The first sip was heavenly, rich and almost caramelly as it slid down my throat.

"Good?" Harry asked.

"Hell yeah," I breathed. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he said, sitting down again. I sat down next to him as I saw the small breakfast arranged on the coffee table in front of us. There were some bagels, fruit, sausages, and bacon, all waiting for us to enjoy. Ron had already devoured all of the bacon and most of the sausages, but I quickly snagged a whole-wheat bagel, cream cheese, and some strawberries before anyone could touch them.

"What's the plan for today?" I asked.

"Showing you around Hogwarts," Harry said, grabbing a blueberry bagel and shredding it slightly as he ate bits and pieces of it. "Gotta give you the grand tour so you don't get lost your first day."

"Ruddy awful, it is!" Ron said through a mouthful of sausage. "Couldn't get to the Great Hall without help 'til Friday, our first year! Bloody miracle we didn't run into Peeves on the way!"

"Who's Peeves?" I asked as I sipped at my espresso.

"The castle's poltergeist," Hermione said as she helped herself to a handmade fruit salad. "He's absolutely awful if you're running late. His advice is worth two wrong turns and a locked door if you ask for it."

"The best ghost to ask is Nearly Headless Nick," Harry said. "He's the Gryffindor House ghost. You'll know him easy, he wears a ruff."

"OK," I said before starting on my fruity bagel. I'll admit, I savored that breakfast. It was the first in a long time I didn't have a certain someone glaring at me as if demanding what the hell I was doing eating his well-earned food.

"How'd you know I like coffee?" I asked Harry.

He just shrugged.

"Lucky guess," he said. "You're American, so I assumed you don't like tea."

I shook my head. "Too soft," I said. I lifted the nearly-empty coffee mug in a salute. "This is my very good friend, Messeur Coffee!"

"I hope you don't mind it's decaf," Hermione said. "The elves here don't like serving drinks with too much caffeine. They say it's not healthy for the students."

"Oh …" I said, glancing down at what was left of my coffee. I quickly slammed it back and set the mug down with a satisfied sigh. "That was _good_! We ready to go?"

They all smiled at me and stood up. As one, we all walked out of the common room and into the beginning of a very memorable year.


	6. Damn Straight!

**Chapter Six:**** Damn Straight!**

Over the next couple days, I slowly got used to waking up at seven in the morning and getting ready for the day. Harry, Ron, and Hermione showed me how to get to my various classes using as many short-cuts as possible. They also told me which corridors to avoid, who was best and worst when it came to directions, and how to organize my book-bag so I didn't end up a hunchback by the end of the day.

On Monday, I felt a bit more prepared to face the fireworks. I had my book-bag organized and filled with everything I'd need for the day until lunch. According to the schedule Professor McGonagall had provided me with, I had a double period of History of Magic first thing, a break around 10:30 am, and then a double period of Potions. After lunch, I had Ancient Runes with Hermione and a double period of Defense Against the Dark Arts. I wasn't looking forward to Defense due to that waddling pink hairball, but I knew I had to learn this stuff somehow.

After getting dressed, I headed down the stairs with Hermione, ignoring the Giggles' mousy "death glares" and smugly slamming the door in their faces. Hermione chuckled at my attitude before catching sight of Harry, who looked like he wanted to punch something REALLY hard.

"What's the matter?" Hermione asked as we caught up with the boys. "You look really angry about something."

"Seamus still reckons Harry's lying about You-Know-Who," Ron said.

I felt my blood boil as I looked over at Harry, who just seemed to be getting angrier.

Hermione just sighed dejectedly.

"Yes, Lavender thinks so, too," she said tiredly.

"Been having a nice little chat with her about whether or not I'm a lying, attention-seeking prat, have you?" Harry nearly shouted.

"I have," I said, causing Harry to look at me with a look of betrayal on his face. I just smiled and continued. "The little Dorcus has been sitting on her prim little ass as I've yelled at her about what she thinks about you. I mean, I'm all for voicing opinions, but when that opinion is nothing more than defamation of character, people just need to put up or shut up. Unfortunately, Mickey and the Giggles are too stupid to understand that."

"You really shouldn't call Seamus that," Hermione said uncomfortably. "It's really not respectful –"

"If he wants respect," I snarled, "he'll have to earn it, starting with making up for not believing Harry! Until then, I'll call that little –" here, I used a word that nearly made Hermione faint, "– whatever I damn well please!"

"Bloody mental, you are," Ron said faintly, staring at me with wide eyes. I graced him with a feral grin that made him look as pale as a corpse.

"Damn straight!" I said before looking over at Harry. He seemed torn between gratitude and frustration. I just smiled at him and slipped my arm through his as I had on my first night here. His expression didn't change as we walked toward the Great Hall, but I felt his arm flex as he pulled me a little closer. My smile widened in a small rush of understanding; he _was_ grateful, but he didn't know how to express it and that was frustrating him.

When we got to the Great Hall, Harry expressed his worry about someone named Hagrid not being around, but before they could elaborate, a tall black girl with long cornrow braids marched up to us.

"Hi, Angelina," Harry said.

"Hi, good summer?" she asked briskly. Before Harry could answer, she announced that she'd been made Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and that tryouts for the Keeper position were on Friday and that the whole team needed to be there. Harry promised her that he'd be there and then helped me into a seat. I smiled at him in thanks and tried to swallow a chuckle when I saw him blush slightly.

After we'd eaten, Harry asked if the rumors about OWL year were true, that the work would be really tough.

"Oh yeah," Ron said definitively as we walked to History of Magic. "Bound to be, isn't it? OWLs are really important, affect the jobs you can apply for and everything. We get career advice too, later this year, Bill told me. So you can choose what NEWTs you want to do next year."

"D'you know what you want to do after Hogwarts?" Harry asked us.

"Not really," Ron said sheepishly, "except … well …"

"What?" Harry urged.

"Well, it'd be cool to be an Auror," Ron said offhandedly, "but they're, like, the elite!"

"Yeah, they are," I said. I smiled a little at the idea of being an Auror, fighting back against the biggest, baddest bullies in the world. I could definitely see myself doing that for a living.

"You too, huh?" Harry asked with a slight smile.

I returned the smile and nodded. "I've always gotten a huge rush fighting back against bullies," I admitted. "Getting paid for that would definitely make it all worth it."

"All what?" Ron asked.

He didn't mean it to be nosy or anything, but I couldn't help but get defensive. I glared at him, prepared to chew his head off, but surprisingly, Hermione beat me to it!

"Ronald Weasley!" she yelped. "That is such a personal question, I don't even want to think about how rude you're being! If she wants to tell you about her past, which was no doubt painful, she'll tell you _herself_ without you pestering her! Is that clear?!"

"Y-Yeah, sure," he stammered. "Sorry," he said to me. I just rolled my eyes and clipped him across his ear before heading on my way.

History of Magic was, without a doubt, the most BORING class I'd ever been in! I'd been really excited for it beforehand, due to my favorable experiences with History at Ilvermorny, but when the class is taught by a ghost who drones on endlessly and gets half the information wrong, it's no wonder almost everyone falls asleep or does something else in that class.

During break, we were sitting in a corner of the courtyard, trying to stay dry when the pretty Asian girl from the train showed up.

"Hello, Harry!" she said brightly.

"Hi," Harry said, his face almost matching his Gryffindor tie.

"You got that stuff off, then?" she said, obviously trying to be witty.

"Yeah," Harry said, trying to seem nonchalant about that particular incident. No doubt it was mortifying to him. "So did you … er … have a good summer?" Almost immediately, his expression became slightly panicked and apprehensive, like he was waiting for the girl to explode.

Fortunately she said it had been alright, but then Ron started chewing her out about her Tornadoes badge. Apparently it was a Quidditch team that had been on a winning streak recently and he was worried she was jumping on a bandwagon, but according to her, she'd supported them since she was six. Poor Harry was left to deal with Hermione chewing Ron out about how tactless he was being over the girl obviously wanting to speak exclusively to Harry. They kept the argument up until we got to the dungeons for Snape's Potions class.

I'd been decent at Potions before, in that I could follow a recipe, but I'd never be able to be a Potions Master since I lacked the patience and subtlety needed for such a profession. I hoped that Professor Snape was as firm and fair as my previous Potions teacher, Master Proctor, but I'd have to wait and see.

"Settle down," Professor Snape said coldly as he swept into the already-settled class. He was a tall, thin man with long, greasy-looking black hair and a rather large hooked nose. He wore long black robes that, when he walked down the aisle to the front of the class, swept out behind him like the wings of a dark angel … or a vampire, but whatever. His voice was cold and quiet, but I could clearly understand his every word. I could only imagine that voice reciting Shakespeare onstage – I was sure he'd be marvelous at it if he wanted to be.

"Before we begin today's lesson," he said, "I think it appropriate to remind you that next June, you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'acceptable' in your OWL, or suffer my … displeasure."

I couldn't help the slight shiver of excitement. He was challenging us to show him how smart we were! Well, Professor, challenge accepted!

"After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," he continued. "I take only the very best into my NEWT Potions class, which means some of us will certainly be saying goodbye. But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell, so whether you are intending to attempt NEWT or not, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high-pass level I have come to expect from my OWL students.

"Today, we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: If you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients, you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing. The ingredients and method" – he flicked his wand at the blackboard to make the instructions appear – "are on the blackboard. You will find everything you need" – another flick of the wand at a cupboard, which sprang open – "in the store cupboard. You have an hour and a half … Start."

I immediately reached into my bag for the hair-clip I kept in my bag specifically for Potions class. After clipping up my unruly black curls, I waved my wand at the blackboard and at my open Potions notebook, muttering a spell that copied the recipe straight onto the page in my own handwriting. It was a spell Master Proctor had taught me after I'd told him I had a hard time deciphering his handwriting. Levitating the notebook before me to keep my arms free, I gathered all the ingredients I would need and hurried back to my desk to begin.

I'd taken the Draught of Peace many times before, so I knew how important this particular potion was; however, this was the first time I'd tried to brew it myself instead of watching over someone else's shoulder. Doing it myself, I realized that this potion was very particular about how it was to be made. I had to add the ingredients in exactly the right order and amounts, stir the potion exactly the right amount of times in either direction, the heat of the flames had to keep the potion at exactly the right temperature for the exact amount of minutes before the final ingredient was added. I had to take many deep breaths to keep myself patient and focused; a reoccurring problem with me and Potions was, if I got too frantic, I would rush and end up missing something. Normally, I wouldn't mind too much, but I really wanted to make a good impression on this professor as it was my first day in his class. I didn't want to be seen as a waste of time, space, and potions ingredients to him, as no doubt a few people in this class were.

"A light silver vapor should now be rising from your potion," Professor Snape called after one hour and twenty minutes had gone by. He'd been by my cauldron a couple times in that time, but he'd refused to even glance at me. I decided to take it as if he was waiting to see the final product before he made any critiques; anything else would make me lose my focus.

My potion wasn't perfect – its surface was dark gray rather than light silver – but it wasn't pretending to be a chimney like Harry's or emitting sparks like Ron's. Hermione's was much better than mine – her shimmering, silver potion was practically perfect – and Professor Snape passed it by with no comment, which seemed to mean that nothing was wrong.

At Harry's cauldron, however, he got this really ugly look on his face. He wore a horribly triumphant curled-lip-smirk that reminded me of a snake revealing its fangs just before it struck.

"Potter, what is this supposed to be?" he asked.

"The Draught of Peace," Harry said tensely. He was standing as straight as a ramrod, his shoulders were at a perfect right angle to his tightly-muscled neck, and his eyes were glaring straight into Professor Snape's, almost like he knew what was about to be said and daring the professor to say it anyway. His stance reminded me of mine when I had to deal with my old Astronomy instructor; that awful little man took every opportunity to belittle and harass me because of my mother's No-Maj husband, and he also encouraged others to do the same during his class. This couldn't be a good sign as to Professor Snape's temperament.

"Tell me, Potter," Snape said softly, almost … simperingly. "Can you read?"

"Yes, I can," Harry said through clenched teeth.

"Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter."

Before Harry had the chance to squint at the board, I shoved my notebook over to him, making both him and Professor Snape jump in surprise. Harry gave me a slight nod before reading the words on the page.

"'Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counterclockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes, and then add two drops of syrup of hellebore.'"

By the way he hesitated slightly at the last part, I realized that he'd forgotten the hellebore. I remembered my Potions instructor talking about this to another class of his about this; he said that the hellebore syrup was the easiest thing to forget because it was the ingredient that had the smallest quantity and that if one did forget it, all one needed to do was add four drops of peanut oil.

"Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?" Professor Snape asked.

"No," Harry said quietly, sounding like it hurt to have that admission torn from him.

"I beg your pardon?"

"No," Harry said a bit more loudly. "I forgot the hellebore …"

"I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless," Professor Snape said, raising his wand to wipe the cauldron clean.

"Professor, couldn't he just add some peanut oil to get the same effect?" I asked hurriedly. "My previous Potions instructor said –"

"Something completely irrelevant to this class," Professor Snape snapped. "Adding peanut oil will lessen the effects of the potion, forcing the dosage higher and making the likelihood of overdose that much higher. Surely your Potions instructor knew that?"

I couldn't help stammering at the venom and … pure malice in his voice. "He … he did, sir, but –"

"Then why would he teach that particular method to his students?"

"Because he always wanted us to have a Plan B!" I said loudly. "Yes, it makes the potion a bit weaker but not as weak as you make it sound! My point is, Harry's potion isn't unable to be salvaged! You don't have to give him a zero for this!"

I suddenly realized the tenseness of the atmosphere around me. I don't think I could hear anyone breathing! Then again, judging by the look of thunderstruck outrage on Professor Snape's face, I had crossed a major line with him.

"… Fifty points from Gryffindor, Miss Dolan," he snarled, his lips barely moving. "For presuming you could teach this class better than I. And as for _your_ potion –"

I never gave him the chance to finish. I shoved my full cauldron over and dumped a very hot load of the Draught of Peace all over his floor. As other students clambered onto their chairs, Professor Snape looked at me incredulously, as though asking me how I could possibly be so stupid as to do something like that.

"You would have given me a zero anyway," I said shrugging as though my eyes didn't have a look of hellfire in them (which I know they did). "For being friends with Harry and daring to not be the mindless drone you're expecting a student of yours to be."

As everyone in the class stared at me looking completely flabbergasted, I cast a quick _Scourgify_ on my utensils and cauldron, charmed my utensils and ingredients to go back where they needed to be, and gave Professor Snape a defiant smile before strutting out of the room.


	7. Catching Hell and Not Caring

**Chapter Seven:**** Catching Hell and Not Caring**

I was at lunch when Harry, Ron, and Hermione found me. The loud cheering nearly made me choke on the bite of shepherd's pie I had been chewing on. I whipped my head around to see most of the Gryffindor students in my year cheering as they hurried over to me, Ron and Harry in the front of the crowd with a rather disgruntled-looking Hermione bringing up the rear.

"You were bloody brilliant!" Ron cried, slapping me on the back as I kept choking on my food.

"No one's ever talked back to Snape like that!" Dean Thomas laughed, sitting down across from me as I got my breath back.

Harry just grinned widely as he sat down next to me, making me grin back at him.

Hermione, not necessarily to my surprise, sniffed in disapproval.

"You really could have hurt the other students, Reggie," she said. "What if they'd gotten hit with the potion?!"

"They would've gotten burned but would be too calm to panic about it," I snapped back. "I don't regret what I did down there. He was being a bully, and I stood up to him. That's all there is to it."

"I always thought Dumbledore was cracked trusting Snape," Ron said hotly. "Where's the evidence he ever really stopped working for You-Know-Who?"

"What?!" I yelped.

"Yeah," Ron said with a savage look. "Dumbledore says he switched sides and started spying for our side, but he won't say why Snape switched!"

"I think Dumbledore's probably got plenty of evidence, even if he doesn't share it with you, Ronald," Hermione snapped.

"Oh shut up, the pair of you!"

Everyone nearby jumped at Harry's snarl. He'd been grinning like he'd just won the lottery mere moments before, and now he looked ready to literally bite our heads off. What was going on?!

"Can't you give it a rest?" Harry continued. "You're always having a go at each other, it's driving me mad!" Before any of us could react, he grabbed his book-bag and stormed out of the Great Hall.

I blinked a few times before responding.

"I take it that's not normal," I said, pointing in the direction Harry had gone.

"Told you," Seamus said. "He's mad!"

In a blink, I was on my feet and shoving Seamus's face in his lunch, much to the amazement of the Ravenclaw table next to us. Now having completely lost my appetite, I grabbed my own bag and hurried after Harry, not entirely sure how I would find him.

Finally, I had to give up and head to Ancient Runes, where I found a rather harried Hermione waiting for me. I managed to sit down right as the bell rang, much to the class's amusement.

Professor Babbling was the one teaching Ancient Runes, and she was absolutely eccentric! As her name suggested, she barely let us get a word in edgewise, babbling on about different runes and their translations. It was almost like Professor Binns on caffeine! It was all I could do to take notes, let alone answer any questions asked of me (of which there were none, thankfully). Hermione kept sending me disapproving glares out of the corner of her eye throughout the lesson, no doubt still angry at me for my earlier treatment of Snape and Seamus; I'd need to talk to her about that, I realized.

The walk down to Defense Against the Dark Arts was quiet and tense. I didn't quite know what to say to ease the tension, but I did know Hermione would go off on me if I opened my mouth and we didn't have time for that just yet so I kept my mouth shut.

Professor Umbridge was standing at the teacher's desk when we walked in and took our seats. Hermione and I sat next to each other, and Ron and Harry sat next to each other across the aisle from us.

"Wands away and quills out, please," Professor Umbridge said sweetly. I noticed that as everyone else did so, their faces were rather gloomy.

As I sat at the desk, ready to take notes, Professor Umbridge took out an unusually short wand and rapped the board sharply, making a message appear:

Defense Against the Dark Arts

A Return to Basic Principles

"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?" she asked, facing us with her hands clasped in front of her. "The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your OWL year.

"You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please."

I ignored what she was now writing on the board because two words stood out in that little speech: "theory centered". That was it?! Theory?! I learned that in my first year at Ilvermorny! When she passed out the class books, I immediately recognized it as the very book I had used in my first year Magical Theory class. I couldn't believe this!

My hand shot straight in the air and stayed there for at least thirty minutes before Professor Umbridge finally deigned to call on me.

"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" she asked, as though she'd only just noticed me.

"No, ma'am," I said firmly. "I have a question about your 'Ministry-approved' curriculum."

She raised her eyebrows before continuing.

"And your name is – ?"

"Regina Dolan," I said, not willing to let her call me by the nickname I only told potential friends about.

"Well, Miss Dolan, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read through them carefully."

"I don't need to," I said hotly. "You described them when you said our class would be 'theory-centered'. You're not going to actually teach us how to use higher level spells that'll be on our OWLS – you're just slamming us back into the Magical Theory class we all took first year!"

Everyone tensed up in shock, no doubt realizing that I was right.

"_Using_ higher level spells?" Professor Umbridge giggled. I _hate_ giggles, in case you've forgotten. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to _use_ a defensive spell, Miss Dolan. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

"No," I said, overriding the comment that started to come from Ron's mouth, "but I _do_ expect to be able to perform higher-level defensive spells in the practical portion of my OWL exams, which I won't be able to do if I don't put the theory I've learned into action at least once beforehand!"

"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Dolan?"

"No more than you are," I snapped. I immediately sensed the same tension that had been in Potions when I'd challenged Professor Snape. I would get in trouble here, I was certain of it.

Professor Umbridge's face turned light pink before continuing in a slightly tenser tone.

"Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way –"

"What use is that?" Harry interrupted, surprising me as well as everyone else. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be in a –"

"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr. Potter!" Professor Umbridge snapped, ignoring Harry when he jabbed his fist into the air. However, she couldn't ignore the other hands that had been tentatively raised.

"And your name is?" she asked Dean Thomas.

"Dean Thomas, ma'am, and it's like Harry said, isn't it? If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk-free –"

"I repeat," Professor Umbridge smiled, "do you expect to be attacked during my class?"

"No but –"

"I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school," she said unconvincingly, "but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed – not to mention, extremely dangerous half-breeds."

Before I could voice my confusion, Dean piped up angrily, defending the honor of someone he called "Professor Lupin", but Professor Umbridge overrode him again and continued.

"You have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group, and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day –"

"No, we haven't!" Hermione cried, _much_ to my surprise. "We just –"

"_Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!_"

She again ignored the hand of the person talking to her and continued.

"It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them _on_ you! Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about. And your name is?" she asked one of the Giggles.

"Parvati Patil, and isn't Reggie right about the practical bit in our Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL?"

"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions."

"So, by your logic," I said, with my hand up, "if I study long enough about how to lay an egg, I should be able to do it, right?"

The entire class dissolved into chuckles about the ridiculousness of my statement and the darkening color of Professor Umbridge's face, which was now an awful rosy color.

"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" Harry shouted, his fist in the air as well.

"This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world."

"Isn't school supposed to prepare us for the real world?" I asked snidely.

"Not to mention for what's waiting out there!" Harry said loudly.

"There is nothing out waiting out there, Mr. Potter."

"Oh yeah?" Harry asked, his eyes glittering like hellfire as his face went dark red as his anger boiled over.

"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?"

"Oh boy, I've got such a list for you!" I said, smiling savagely at her. "There are muggers, kidnappers, terrorists, rapists, child abusers –"

"And Lord Voldemort!"

I knew Harry had played right into her trap the moment I saw Umbridge's grimly satisfied smile. She knew he couldn't resist telling everyone that Voldemort was back, so she set him up to announce it in the middle of class! Stupid! Why couldn't I catch that beforehand?!

"Now," Professor Umbridge said softly but firmly, "let me make things quite plain. You have been told that a certain Dark Wizard has returned from the dead. _This … is … a … __**lie!**_"

"It's NOT a lie!" Harry cried in outrage. "I saw him, I fought him!"

"Detention, Mr. Potter!"

"So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord?" Harry yelled, standing up to glare straight at Umbridge.

"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident," Umbridge said in a fake sympathetic tone.

"It was murder!" Harry shouted. "Voldemort killed him, you must know this –"

"ENOUGH!" Umbridge shrieked, magenta in the face, before gathering her composure and trilling, "I will see you for detention at five o'clock tomorrow night, Mr. Potter. My office," she ended with a slight giggle. "Begin reading chapter one, if you please."

I could clearly see we had no choice but to obey her for the moment, so I opened the book and began to read it … again.

"Oh, and Miss Dolan?"

I looked up at her and simply raised an eyebrow, silently asking her to continue.

"You will be joining Mr. Potter in detention as well. Five o'clock tomorrow night, my office."

I felt as though I'd been punched in the gut. I knew I had a real problem with authority, but normally said authority figures would at least discuss with me about the problems I had, not talk over me as if I were in kindergarten.

I drummed my long fingernails on my desk as I glared straight into Professor Umbridge's eyes as she stared right back at me, waiting for me to accept a detention I didn't deserve.

"Actually, I won't be," I said, gathering my parchment, quill, and ink before standing up without my book. "You see, I seem to be in the wrong class. I thought I'd be in OWL-level Defense Against the Dark Arts, not back in first year Magical Theory. I'm afraid I'm going to have to talk to Professor McGonagall about switching to a different class."

Before the gaping toad could say a word, I spun around on my heel and marched out of the classroom, knowing I was going to catch major hell for this and not caring in the slightest. I refused to be in a class where I was unable to learn what I needed to achieve my life's ambition. It was an absolute waste of my time, and not to mention the hard-earned tuition money Mom was paying Dumbledore to let me learn here. Steam practically shooting from my ears, I marched straight to the library, eager to catch up on the OWL-level hexes and jinxes Umbridge would never teach us.


	8. Just Imagine

**Chapter Eight:**** Just Imagine**

My impromptu study session ended up getting interrupted by Professor McGonagall, who all but demanded I follow her up to her office. Now, being ordered around still bugged me big-time, but when the person doing the ordering deserved my respect, I generally obeyed them. In this instance, Professor McGonagall was not only my Head of House but also my Deputy Headmistress, so I obeyed her almost without hesitation.

"Come in here, Dolan," she said, her Scottish brogue rather thick at the moment.

"Well?" she asked. "Is it true?"

"Is what true, Professor?" I asked, still smarting over Umbridge's class.

"Is it true that you disrespected Professor Umbridge?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said, unconsciously standing at attention and speaking as though I was in the military.

"You called her a liar?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You walked out of her class, claiming that you were in the wrong class."

"Yes, _ma'am_!" I said, daring to wear a proud smirk as I did so.

She sat down behind her desk and stared at me for a long moment.

"Have a biscuit, Dolan."

I blinked in surprise, not expecting that at all.

"Have – what?"

"Have a biscuit," she repeated impatiently, indicating a tin of cookies sitting on top of a pile of papers on her desk. "And at ease. Do sit down!"

Those two words, "at ease", almost immediately made me relax a little as I sat down and almost timidly helped myself to a Ginger Newt, which was actually pretty good and helped to settle my queasy stomach. I didn't quite know what to expect from this teacher just yet so I was trying to be careful, but the fact that I felt so confused and unsteady didn't help at all.

At the moment, Professor McGonagall had a very serious look on her face, which actually reminded me the look Mom had whenever she was trying to warn me about her husband's temper.

"Dolan, you need to be careful."

Her voice raised so many red flags for me, it wasn't even funny; in contrast to its normal brisk and stern tone, it was actually low and anxious and almost … human!

"Misbehavior in Dolores Umbridge's class could cost you much more than House points and a detention. Think about to whom she is reporting, and think about your friends here! Think of what she could do to them if you insist on testing her so harshly!"

"She wouldn't dare, dammit!" I cried, outraged at the thought of that … toad hurting Harry or Hermione.

"Oh, she most certainly would!" Professor McGonagall snapped. "When she obtained a position of power in the Ministry, she paid her father to quietly 'disappear'. He was once a member of the Department of Magical Maintenance, and she made sure he was out of the way of her meteoric rise to success. To this day, no one has seen or heard anything from him – most people have become convinced that Professor Umbridge's deceased father was an illustrious member of the Wizengamot! If she was willing to hide and possible kill her own father, just imagine what she could do to a young wizard with a volatile temper, an already-spotted reputation, and a _criminal record_, whether it was cleared or not! Potter needs support at this time, that is true, but he also needs eyes peeled out for his safety! And that means that you, as his newfound friend, need to think of how your actions could affect him, as well as yourself!"

The fireplace behind Professor McGonagall was full of warm coals and dancing flames, but I suddenly felt as cold as the dungeons. Shivers went up and down my spine at the idea that my actions could threaten one of my first real friends! I'd never had to look out for others before; I'd never let anyone close enough to feel the need to. But something about Harry sparked a kind of kinship in me, one that I would be damned to betray at this time. If I was threatening him with the temper tantrums I was throwing at other teachers, who knows how much damage I'd already done?!

"What do I do?" I asked, my voice almost unrecognizable even to my own ears. It was small and quiet and quivering with fright. Professor McGonagall gave me a nod and pushed the tin toward me, quietly offering me another biscuit while she went through her papers. She pulled out one that was such a shocking shade of Pepto Bismol pink that I had no doubt who it had come from.

"For starters," Professor McGonagall said as I chewed on another Ginger Newt, "you need to clear out your detention ledger. After hearing about your detention with Professor Umbridge, Professor Snape has agreed to let you off with a warning. But be aware that you cannot throw your potions around like you're splashing an offensive suitor, Dolan. One more report of behavior like that, and I'll be bringing you down to the dungeons by the ear for detention myself. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said, wiping the crumbs off of my skirt. "And … Professor Umbridge?"

"She has given you and Potter detention every evening this week, starting tomorrow," Professor McGonagall said. "I don't want to hear any protests, Dolan; she is your teacher, whether you like it or not, and has every right to give you detention. Just remember: tread carefully around her!"

I took a deep breath, not at all happy that I wasn't getting my way this time but understanding that I had stepped over the line more than once today.

"Yes, ma'am."

There was a tense silence that followed. I could sense Professor McGonagall assessing me and my behavior, but I refused to look her in the eye. If I was being totally honest, I was terrified of her seeing too much.

"Is your father in the military, Dolan?"

I blinked and looked up at the unconventional question. The look on her face, though, told me that it wasn't out of malice that she'd asked; she simply wanted to clarify something.

"No, my mother's husband is," I said quietly but firmly. "My father died before Mom could tell him she was pregnant."

Professor McGonagall stared sharply at me for a long time, seeming to see more than I was comfortable showing. This time, I refused to back down; I was a Gryffindor, and I needed to prove it at least to her. For some reason, I found myself wanting to please her, at least a little.

Finally she nodded firmly.

"I see," she said crisply. "Well, do know that you can come to me with any information you feel needs to reach my ears. My door is always open, and know that I am not Head of the House of Lions for nothing. I have heard many people call me an old battle-axe when I'm in a mood."

I couldn't help but chuckle.

"That's something I'd pay to see," I said, smirking again, "just as long as you weren't 'in a mood' with me."

"Oh, I have no doubt you'll see it by the end the year is out," Professor McGonagall said, almost self-consciously straightening her papers out. "Well, dinner is underway, no doubt. Why don't you go and find your friends; I rather think they will have been searching rather frantically for you."

I gave her a small smile and stood up.

"Thank you, ma'am, I will!"

And with that, our conversation firmly lodged in my mind, I turned and almost marched out of the office, determined to keep Harry as safe as I could. I'd witnessed him try to protect me before; it was time I returned the favor.


	9. Musical Therapy

**Chapter Nine:**** Musical Therapy**

As I headed down to the Great Hall, I couldn't help but think of the conversation I'd had with Professor McGonagall. All my life, I'd only looked after Me; no one else would look out for Me, so I had to do it. I'd known a lot of people who wanted to get closer to me, but I'd never allowed them to. Maybe it was because my personal nightmare was too close, whereas in England, there was an entire ocean between me and _him_.

But somehow, a skinny boy with a mess of hair and tormented eyes managed to walk through my walls and into my life. Maybe I recognized the torment as similar to my own … maybe I just wanted to make the torment go away … or maybe I was just tired of being lonely and clung to one of the first people I found.

I was torn from my musing by angry voices coming toward me. I instinctively hid behind a nearby suit of armor to see if I could avoid the confrontation. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw it was just Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were all discussing something rather heatedly.

" … We just had Dumbledore's word for it that You-Know-Who had come back and killed Cedric and fought you."

"Which is the truth!" Harry said loudly.

"You know, you really should stop biting your friends' heads off," I said, swaggering slightly as I stepped out from behind the suit of armor. For a moment, I felt a great sense of warmth at the absolute relief on Harry's face when he saw me, but that moment was ruined when he marched over to me, glaring ferociously.

"Where have you been?!" he growled. "Getting chummy with McGonagall this whole time?! No doubt you've been talking about –"

"– Keeping your skinny ass safe from Umbridge, actually!" I retorted hotly. Just because he was experiencing major mood swings didn't mean I had to stand there and take his abuse. I had enough of that elsewhere, thank you!

"I don't need to be kept safe!" Harry said loudly, standing almost too close. "Let alone by someone who doesn't even know half of what's going on!"

"And whose fault is that?!" I snapped. "I would gladly ask what was going on but anytime someone asks you what happened last summer, you act like a war vet with PTSD!"

"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE!" Harry bellowed. "YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'M GOING THROUGH RIGHT NOW! NO BLOODY IDEA!

"Really?" I asked with a raised eyebrow. "Let me guess. You're constantly seeing whatever happened in your head over and over, not only in nightmares but in flashbacks! You're trying everything you can to avoid even thinking about what happened to you, but you can't because every day it's right in your face! You can't even enjoy the company of the people you love because you know they might leave for one reason or another! You can't concentrate on anything because you can't stop thinking about what happened! _And_ you know that what happened could happen again so you're constantly on high alert, completely aware of anything loud or sudden or out of place! Is that it?! Is that what it's like?! HUH?!"

By the end of that little speech, I was visibly trembling from head to toe, glaring at Harry through stormy-grey, tear-filled eyes. Harry was staring at me in absolute shock, like I'd slapped him in the face with a frying pan.

"How …?" he started to ask, but something he saw in my face made him trail off.

"You're not the only one who's had a hard life, Harry," I snarled, quickly wiping under my eyes to get rid of the tears. "There are other people who've had it rough too. You're just too busy wallowing in self-pity and depression to notice. Try pulling your head out of your ass once in a while! You'll be amazed what you notice!"

I spun on my heel and marched away, unbelievably hurt that Harry dared assume I had no idea what his life was like. I mean, yeah, I was all confidence and bravado, but did he really think that was all there was to me?

I marched all over Hogwarts until I came upon what looked like an abandoned corridor. I was still absolutely fuming and needed something to let out all of my anger. For some reason, I started pacing, focusing on nothing but my anger and my need to let it out. After the third rotation, I paused and stared in shock at what had previously been a blank wall – it was now a large wooden door that was opening itself to me.

What awaited me on the inside made me grin: a state-of-the-art karaoke system, complete with a microphone, a mike-stand, and a stereo system that would make any rock-and-roll fan jealous. Knowing exactly what I needed to do, I raced up to the karaoke system and looked for the song I really needed – "Leave Me Alone" by Michael Jackson.

When the song was done, I took a deep breath and decided I needed a little more Michael Jackson musical therapy. I sang quite a few songs, including "Bad", "Scream", "Black or White", "Smooth Criminal", and "They Don't Really Care About Us".

Now firmly stuck in a slightly depressed and definitely angry mood, I stalked back to Gryffindor Tower to find a rather strange sight. Fred and George were sitting in the middle of a circle of first years and handing them something out of a brown paper bag. As they chewed, I saw each and every one of those kids fall unconscious in their seats.

"Holy shit!" I yelled, marching over to them. "What the hell did you give them!?"

"Calm down, Reggie," George said as Fred walked around and carefully looked each first year over. "They're Fainting Fancies, part of our Skiving Snackboxes! It's perfectly safe –"

"You obviously don't know that since you're still testing them out! And on _first years_, no less!" I snapped, pointing at the students, who were now being fed a purple something by Fred.

"Oh honestly! I told you this morning, you can't test you rubbish on students!"

George and I both jumped when Hermione came marching over to us, her dark eyes glinting sharply.

"We're paying them!" Fred said indignantly.

"I don't care, it could be dangerous!" she cried.

"Rubbish!" Fred said dismissively.

"Yeah, look, they're coming around now," George said, pointing at the now-stirring students. Quite a few of them looked quite astonished to be flat on the floor or dangling off of their chair. Hmmm …

"You didn't tell them what they were testing on them, did you?!" I snarled, narrowing my eyes at the twins as I stalked closer. "You just let the bitsy little first years trust you because you're the popular upperclassmen who obviously know better than everyone else!

"Yeah, but it doesn't matter!" Fred said angrily. "They're alive, aren't they?"

"Yeah, but what if it's not candy you're giving them?!" I yelled. "What if it's alcohol, drugs, or something even worse!"

"You can't do this!" Hermione shrieked, surprisingly backing me up. "What if you made one of them really ill?"

"We're not going to make them ill," George said, obviously trying to keep things under control. "We've already tested them all on ourselves, this is just to see if everyone reacts the same –"

"If you don't stop," Hermione snarled, actually sounding just like I had a moment ago, "I'm going to –"

"Put us in detention?" Fred sneered in an I'd-like-to-see-you-try sort of voice.

"Make us write lines?" George smirked.

Hermione and I looked at each other and seemed to get the same idea. We smirked and drew ourselves to our full height (which wasn't much – I'm 5'2" and she's 5'5" or 5'6").

"No," I sneered before looking at Hermione again to wave my hand in an if-you'll-do-the-honors motion.

"But I will write to your mother!" Hermione said, her voice shaking in anger.

"You wouldn't!" George gasped, taking a full step away from us.

"Oh yes, I would!" Hermione said grimly. "I can't stop you eating the stupid things yourselves, but you're not giving them to first years."

With that, Hermione and I spun on our heels and marched over to where Harry and Ron were waiting for us, gaping like beached fish.

"Thanks for that," I muttered over to Hermione.

"You're quite welcome," she said a bit stiffly. "I'm just glad someone agrees with me about those two."

"Absolutely," I said as we came up on the boys.

"Uh … mind if I join you?" I asked, pointing to the empty chair I saw in front of me.

"Y-Yeah, sure," Harry stammered a bit, pointing to the seat.

I smiled and took out a roll of parchment, asking what our homework was for Potions and Defense.

"Nothing for Defense," Hermione said crisply. "You shook her up too much for her to give us any." She ignored my smirk as she continued. "Professor Snape, on the other hand, assigned us twelve inches on moonstones and their properties and uses in potion-making."

I blinked before nodding and fishing my potions book out of my bag. I was certain there were a few sections on moonstones in there somewhere …

"You're actually doing Snape's homework?!" Ron gasped in horror.

"A minimum of 'Exceeds Expectations' in NEWT Potions is required if I want to be an Auror," I said matter-of-factly. "I may not like Snape, but I do need to learn what I can from him before I go into training."

"You were serious about that, then?" Harry asked.

"Absolutely!" I said, giving him a sharp look before going back to my homework. "You'd best start on _your_ essay. Umbridge will make us regret leaving our homework to sit, I can almost guarantee it!"

"You're still going to her detention?" Harry asked, not taking my homework advice in favor of questioning me.

I rolled my eyes and fixed him with a pretty stern look.

"Professor McGonagall said I had to," I said. "Normally, I don't like being bossed around, but I respect her so, for now, I'll do what she says. Now, quit flapping your lips and get going!"

Harry flinched before scrambling to get his homework out, obviously wanting to avoid me losing my temper with him again.

On top of our Potions homework, which was moderately easy once I had all of the information I needed, we also had an essay on giant wars from Professor Binns. That one took a while because Binns had gone all over the place with the information and I had a hard time finding it in the textbook. By the time I had only my Ancient Runes essay left, I had a small headache festering above my right ear.

"I'm heading to bed," Ron muttered, looking horribly lost as he packed his Potions essay and headed up the stairs. Harry soon followed him, looking like he knew he was going to regret it. Hermione and I stubbornly stayed put and worked together to finish our essay, with her giving me tips on what to focus on with Professor Babbling.

"She may seem to go off on tangents, but she always stays within the chapter," she said. "Just pretend you're following along in the book and take notes from there."

"Thanks, 'Mione," I groaned as I packed my now-finished Ancient Runes essay away. "I owe you one."

"Oh no, you don't," she said loftily. "That's what friends are for."

I blinked up at her in surprise.

"We're still friends?" I ask. "Even though you don't like what I've been doing today?"

"Of course we're still friends!" Hermione said, looking a bit affronted. "I mean, I don't agree with your problems with authority _or_ your swearing problem, but you say what you mean and mean what you say! That's very rare these days, and I like that very much!"

"Th-Thanks," I said, still very surprised. "… Is it a _problem_, my swearing?"

"… Yes, I think it is," Hermione said quietly. "You can barely speak a whole sentence without swearing when you're in a foul mood! Yes, it can seem strong to some people, but to very important people, it just looks crass and, frankly, rather common. I don't think you want to appear that way, especially to people like your future boss or your future in-laws!"

Frankly, I didn't think anyone would be crazy enough to want to date me, let alone introduce me to their parents, but I swallowed that comment when I saw that Hermione was quite serious.

"I'm not expecting you to just kick the habit overnight," she said, "but at least try, just for one class a day, to not swear!"

"Just one class period?" I asked.

"Yes," Hermione said, nodding as if this was the best answer available. "Try … third hour. What do you have third hour?"

I quickly rattled off all my third period classes as "Ancient Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, and Herbology".

Hermione frowned a little.

"Care of Magical Creatures will be a bit difficult since we have the class with the Slytherins," she said, wincing slightly as we went upstairs to our dormitory, "but I'll be with you. If I'm worried about you swearing, I'll … um … tap you on the shoulder or something."

"… Thanks, 'Mione," I said tiredly. "Can't promise that I'll be perfect, but … I'll give it a try, I guess."

Hermione gave me a relieved smile that would have made it seem worth it if I thought I could actually kick this habit. It had been so ingrained in me to swear when I was angry or wanted to throw up a wall to hide behind that I thought I was more likely to dye my hair pink than quit swearing.

"You'll do fine," Hermione said confidently as we entered the dormitory. "I know you will."


	10. A Very Long Day

**Chapter Ten:**** A Very Long Day**

That night, Hermione asked me a question as we were getting ready for bed.

"Where were you?" she asked. "After you yelled at Harry?"

I shrugged. "Enjoying some musical therapy, that's all."

"Musical therapy?" she repeated, looking terribly confused.

I nodded. I didn't normally tell this story, but I figured that if I wanted them to trust me, I had to trust them.

"When I was about … twelve, I think, I started getting very angry at the world," I said quietly, even though the other girls were already asleep. "I started lashing out at others in the only way I could – hurting them back. I picked fights with people I wanted to hurt, threw bricks through their windows, told lies about them to others; I became … a bully, which was the one thing I hated more than anything.

"I had a teacher – Miss Rowling – who saw that I really needed help before I ended up in juvie or worse. She was the music teacher at Salem, and she knew that I had a bit of a talent for music. One day, when I was about thirteen, she created a small karaoke bar in the choir room and told us that we had to sing the one song that described how we were feeling that day. I sang 'Beat It' by Michael Jackson," I remembered with a chuckle, "complete with the dance routine. Miss Rowling gave me a standing ovation and said, 'That's what I was asking for! Putting all of your self on that stage and into the song!'

"That was the first time any of my teachers had publically praised me for something. I also realized that singing songs that described how I was feeling helped me get the worst of the anger out so I didn't end up punching someone's lights out. I was still a violent kid, but I was able to channel it better, use it to protect others, y'know? And now, whenever I feel like I have to let something out and I can't walk it off or mouth off at someone, I wait until I can be alone and just … sing it all out. Singing and dancing it all out is a lot more gratifying than yelling into a pillow or punching someone, and it won't send you to jail, either."

Hermione chuckled a little at that last comment before going quiet while she got into bed.

"Miss Rowling sounds like quite the lady," she said with a smile.

"She is," I grinned as I bounced into bed. "She's helped me in ways that I can never repay her for. She's more of a mom than anything else, to be honest."

That surprised Hermione.

"Really?!"

"Yep," I replied. "She doesn't have guardianship or anything, but she's … kinda become my mentor. She's trying to get a master-apprentice contract so she can have proper guardianship of me, but … my mom's husband won't let her."

"… Can't your mum do something about that?" Hermione asked timidly.

I let out a bitter scoff.

"What _can_ she do?!" I asked. "That bas … monster has her under his thumb!"

Hermione was quiet for a long time before speaking.

"I see, a little. And good job not swearing!"

I smirked at her.

"You would've thrown a pillow at me if I had," I said, curling up under the covers.

"Yes, I would have," Hermione said matter-of-factly, though she was smirking as well. "Get some sleep. You'll need it this week."

"Thanks, 'Mione," I said, falling quiet for a while before adding, "for everything."

I fell asleep before I heard her response, but knowing that I had a friend here was more comforting than I thought it would be.

The next day at breakfast, Hermione seemed mildly pleased about something. When Ron asked her what she had to be so happy about on this gray and rainy day, she just smiled over at me and said,

"Oh, nothing. I'm just glad Reggie is still here with us. Especially after last night."

To my surprise, Harry looked a bit ashamed as he looked down at his rather sparse breakfast: two sausages and a slice of toast with pumpkin juice to drink. Noting the breakfast with disapproval, I looked up and down the table until I found a platter of large muffins. Smirking a little, I Summoned two of them and placed one on Harry's plate.

"Oops!" I said innocently as he looked up at me in surprise. "I guess you'll have to eat that one!"

Ignoring Hermione's efforts to not giggle and Ron's confused impression of a beached fish, I gave Harry a wink and bit into my muffin. It was actually quite good, with whole-wheat flour, blueberries, and bananas in it. Harry took a tentative bite of his after a moment and looked pleasantly surprised at the taste. He looked back over at me and gave me a grateful look and a nod, knowing that my offering was more than a mischievous desire to see him fed. It was a peace offering, letting him know that we were cool again.

The first two classes of the day – Double Charms and Double Transfiguration – were very much centered on the OWL exams that were coming at the end of the year.

"What you must remember," Professor Flitwick had told us from the top of his book stack, "is that these examinations may influence your futures for many years to come! If you have not already given serious thought to your careers, now is the time to do so. And in the meantime, I'm afraid, we shall be working harder than ever to ensure that you all do yourselves justice!"

His little lecture had been followed by exhaustive reviewing of Summoning Charms, which according to Professor Flitwick were certain to show up in our OWLs, and the largest amount of Charms homework I'd ever seen! I groaned at the thought of staying up late working on homework after Umbridge's detention. I resolved to spend my breaks and lunch hours in the library to make sure I stayed caught up; Miss Rowling would come over the pond just to skin me alive if I fell behind.

In Transfiguration, my initial instinct about Professor McGonagall was once again confirmed: that tough broad was definitely not one to mess with, especially in her class.

"You cannot pass an OWL," she said grimly, "without serious application, practice, and study. I see no reason why everybody in this class should not achieve an OWL in Transfiguration. Yes, you too, Longbottom," she said bracingly to Neville, who looked very disbelieving. "There's nothing wrong with your work except lack of confidence. So … today we are starting Vanishing Spells. These are easier than Conjuring Spells, which you would not usually attempt until NEWT level, but they are still among the most difficult magic you will be tested on in your OWL."

And she wasn't joking either! Transfiguration gave me a headache at the best of times, but Vanishing Spells were insanely hard! Harry and Ron couldn't Vanish their snails and had to practice overnight, but Hermione managed it on her third try. I managed to make my snail look more transparent, but judging by the slime trail it left behind, it was still there. Professor McGonagall gave me a quick nod and a "Good first try" smile when she came to check on my work, which made me even more determined to master this spell. I knew that if I mastered this difficult spell first, other spells in this class might come a bit more easily, which is probably why Professor McGonagall assigned them to us in the first place.

During lunch, Harry and Ron were panicking over their Potions essay while I worked on my Charms homework, knowing that I would have very limited time for homework tonight. Hermione joined me after fifteen minutes with a large napkin (or "serviette" as she called it) wrapped around a turkey sandwich, complete with lettuce, Swiss cheese, and mayo.

"Just the way I like it!" I said with a delighted smile. "Thanks!"

"Of course," Hermione said. "I saw you eat this a few days ago and thought you might like it again. Just don't eat it in here! Madame Pince will have your head!"

"Thanks for the warning!" I chuckled. "So, on the Charms essay …"

We spent lunch going over the essay but only managed to get an outline figured out before we had to get to Care of Magical Creatures, with me munching on my sandwich as we went. As we went down towards a cabin near the edge of the forest, Hermione reached over and grabbed my hand. This was third period – the one time today I would have to actively try to not swear. Hermione had warned me that quite a few Slytherins were in this class as well, but she had promised me that she would be there to help. I had my doubts about kicking my swearing habit, but Hermione had faith in me and that made me decide to at least try.

I gave her a smile, which got me a nod and a hand squeeze, before we came upon Professor Grubbly-Plank, who was apparently substituting for the actual teacher, whoever he was. As we reached her, we heard a shout of laughter behind us, which turned out to be Malfoy and his little band of followers. Judging by how they kept looking at Harry as they laughed, he was probably the butt of the joke. I reached over and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze when he looked at me. He nodded in thanks before listening to Professor Grubbly-Plank.

"Let's crack on then," she barked. "Who can tell me what these things are?" She indicated a pile of twigs in front of her. When one of them twitched and looked up, I recognized it as a bowtruckle, a wand-tree guardian. I had seen a few of them in my neighborhood park before, and I thought they were quite funny when you weren't messing around with their tree.

I raised my hand, surprising everyone but Hermione, who also had her hand up. Professor Grubbly-Plank called on me, which also surprised everyone.

"Bowtruckles, ma'am," I said. "They're tree guardians, normally for wand-trees. Wandmakers _love_ them!"

"Five points for Gryffindor," Professor Grubbly-Plank said, causing a rush of competitive delight to flood through me. "Yes, these are bowtruckles, and as Miss Dolan rightly says, they generally live in trees whose wood is of wand quality. Anybody know what they eat?"

"Wood lice," Hermione said promptly, "but fairy eggs if you can get them."

"Good girl, take another five points for Gryffindor!"

I smiled over at Hermione and held out my hand, palm facing her. She looked a bit confused before recognizing my offering as a high-five. She slapped her palm against mine before listening to Professor Grubbly-Plank again.

"They may not look dangerous," she was saying, "but if angered, they will gouge out human eyes with their fingers, which, as you can see, are very sharp and not at all desirable near the eyeballs. So if you'd like to gather closer, take a few wood lice and a bowtruckle – I have enough for one between four – you can study them more closely. I want a sketch from each of you with all body parts labeled by the end of the lesson."

I decisively walked forward, scooped up a handful of wood lice in my left hand, and held it out toward the bowtruckles. Sure enough, one of them actually climbed onto my hand, allowing me to carry it back to the others. Harry had been talking to Professor Grubbly-Plank, but he looked rather put-out when he came back so it obviously hadn't gone well.

We were on the ground in a circle around the bowtruckle, no doubt frightening the poor thing, which was getting a tad defensive. I decided to work quickly to draw it out, not wanting to put the little guardian through more trauma than necessary. Harry was whispering something to Hermione, who was whispering back with a placating look on her face, as if she was trying to reassure Harry about something.

"Yes," came Malfoy's voice suddenly and _quite_ loudly, "Father was talking to the Minister just a couple of days ago, you know, and it sounds as though the Ministry's really determined to crack down on substandard teaching in this place. So even if that over-grown moron _does_ show up again, he'll probably be sent packing straight away."

Harry let out a dark growl and started to stand up, but I grabbed him by the collar and yanked him down beside me.

"Dammit, pay attention, Harry!" I said sharply, glaring at Hermione when she whacked me on the head with a roll of fresh parchment. "D'you _want_ the bowtruckle to run off? 'Cause it will if you leave it an opening!"

Harry grumbled the rest of the period, but he stayed put as I'd told him to. I noticed that talking sharply to Harry made him more likely to obey direct requests or demands. Maybe I would have to do that until he got himself a major attitude adjustment.

Before the bell rang, Malfoy tried to get another dig in, but I growled over at him,

"No one cares, Malfoy. If someone gave a flying rat's ass about you, _you'd_ be Hogwarts's Golden Boy, _not Harry!_ Obviously people have better things to do than actually care about _you!_"

Malfoy looked deeply insulted and almost hurt but the bell rang before he could say anything. I could hear the whispers around me, but I didn't care. I was sick and tired of Malfoy constantly picking at Harry and wanted more than anything to publically and humiliatingly put him in his place.

Hermione and I walked over to Professor Grubbly-Plank to turn in our homework before hurrying to join the boys up the path. Harry was obviously gnashing his teeth, but when I came up to him, he relaxed a little. He was very quiet as we walked over to the greenhouses for our Herbology class.

I was surprised when Harry lightly nudged me with his elbow.

"… Thanks," he muttered, looking the other way.

I smiled a little and nudged him back.

"No problem," I said as a gaggle of fourth years came out of the greenhouses, including Ginny and Luna.

The moment Luna saw Harry, she made a beeline for him, ignoring the dirt on her nose and the curious stares of others. Without so much as a hello, she took a breath and declared: "I believe He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back, and I believe you fought him and escaped from him."

I don't know why, but something about what Luna had said knocked me over the head like a ton of bricks. Harry had said in Umbridge's class that he'd fought Voldemort and that a boy had died during the encounter, but I hadn't connected the dots until now. Harry had been _captured_, along with another boy, by the most dangerous Dark Wizard ever known, had _fought_ him, and had managed to _escape_ him. I'd been through some rough times before, but I'd never had anything like _that_ happen before! How the hell had Harry managed it?!

"You can laugh!" Luna cried, glaring at Parvati and Lavender, who were behind us. "But people used to believe there were no such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack!"

"Well, they were right, weren't they?" Hermione said impatiently. "There _weren't_ any such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack!"

"That you're aware of!" I said, not willing to let Luna get teased or put down in my presence. "Just because you've never seen them doesn't mean they don't exist! You'd never seen Hogwarts before you were eleven, but it's been existing for long before then. Why can't those creatures do the same?"

Luna gave me a grateful look before flouncing away, her radish earrings swinging madly at her earlobes.

People kept giving me weird looks until some pompous-looking Hufflepuff boy (I later learned his name was Ernie Macmillan) loudly declared that he believed Harry as well. I sent him a smirk and a nod, which he surprisingly returned before we got to work. We had yet another OWL lecture and a long, exhausting class before we headed off to dinner, stinking of dragon dung.

It had been a very long day, and there was still Umbridge's detention left!

Great …


	11. Detention with the Were-Toad

**Chapter Eleven:**** Detention with the Were-Toad**

Harry and I didn't even bother dropping our bags off at Gryffindor Tower since we needed to be at Umbridge's office by five p.m. We'd barely walked through the door before Angelina marched up to us and started yelling at Harry, obviously put out that he wouldn't be at the tryouts on Friday.

"Didn't I tell you I wanted to do a tryout with the _whole team_, and find someone who _fit in with everyone_? Didn't I tell you I'd booked the Quidditch pitch specially? And now you've decided you're not going to be there!"

"I didn't decide to not be there!" Harry yelled back. "I got detention from that Umbridge woman, just because I told her the truth about You-Know-Who –"

"Holy crap, you just said 'You-Know-Who!'" I chuckled, not entirely caring that Harry was talking to someone else.

To his credit, Harry did respond: he gave me a strange look, like he hadn't realized what he'd said, and then started to chuckle along with me, seeing something as funny for once.

"That doesn't matter," Angelina snarled, glaring at me before latching onto Harry again. "You go straight to her and ask her to let you off on Friday, and I don't care how you do it, tell her You-Know-Who's a figment of your imagination if you like, just _make sure you're there_!"

"He won't be there," I said seriously before Angelina could turn around. "If he asks to be let off on Friday, she'll say 'no' just to make him miserable. I've dealt with psychos like her before. She wants to be in control, and if she can control how miserable her enemies are, all the more power to her. Just keep Harry in mind during the tryouts, but don't expect him to be there. I can almost guarantee he won't be."

Ignoring Angelina's furious look, I took Harry's hand and guided him to the table where Ron and Hermione were waiting.

"I think we'd better check with Puddlemere United whether Oliver Wood's been killed during a training session," Harry said darkly as we sat down, "because Angelina seems to be channeling his spirit."

"Old Quidditch Captain?" I asked.

Harry nodded as he tipped some lamb chops onto his plate, adding a few potatoes and sausages as well. Pursing my lips slightly, I grabbed a spoon and scooped a spoonful of carrots onto his plate. He needed more balanced meals, and it was bugging me like nothing else for some reason. Mom always insisted I eat balanced meals, so maybe that was rubbing off on me somehow …?

Harry gave me a weird look before shrugging and starting to eat.

"I hope she doesn't keep us too long this evening," he said after swallowing some potatoes. "You realize we've got to write three essays, practice Vanishing Spells for McGonagall, work out a countercharm for Flitwick, finish the bowtruckle drawing, and start that stupid dream diary for Trelawney?"

I sighed deeply and ran a hand through my hair at the thought of how much sleep I was going to be losing this week. I'd finished the bowtruckle drawing, thankfully, but I'd only gotten an outline for the Charms essay done. I still had to write that essay, as well as two for Transfiguration and Herbology, practice Vanishing Spells, and work out that countercharm. And that was just today's homework! The homework piling up over the week would bury if I let it!

After stuffing my face with chicken, potatoes, and carrots, I checked my watch and saw that Harry and I had five minutes to get to Umbridge's office. I said a hurried goodbye to Ron and Hermione and all but dragged Harry up to her office, cursing that … that … were-toad the whole way up.

We managed to get there on time, thankfully. After Harry knocked, I leaned over and whispered,

"Don't ask about Quidditch. Just pretend she's already refused and move on. You'll be fine."

Harry nodded at me just before we heard Umbridge tell us to come in.

Her office was so nauseatingly pink and lacey that I had to actually fight to not have a physical reaction to it. The walls had been painted pink and had hundreds of painted-kitten-plates hung on every spare inch. Every other surface was covered in a lace doily, on which rested a vase of dried flowers. It was so … innocently girly on the surface, but the dead flowers and the hundreds of eyes watching us as we walked in lent some sort of … darker freakishness to the whole ensemble. Like I said, nauseating.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter. Miss Dolan."

The dark freak herself was sitting at her desk with a cup of tea in front of her, everything on her desk perfectly arranged around her. She was the center of her own little world in this office, and while we were here, she was making sure we knew it. What she said in here would have to go if we wanted to get out of here in one piece (figuratively speaking, I hope). I hated taking orders from people like her, but … maybe if she did something illegal during the detention, I'd be able to take proof to Professor McGonagall and get Umbridge fired!

"Evening," Harry said stiffly. I gave her a wary nod, not entirely trusting my smart mouth around her just yet.

"Well, sit down," she said, indicating two desks that were set up before her. They were on opposite ends of the office so Harry and I couldn't talk to each other. The items on the desk were a little strange: on the right side was a piece of blank parchment and on the left was a doily that was more solid cloth than lace, like a large handkerchief. If I was arranging it, I would have put the paper on top of the doily, not beside it. What was she planning?

Harry gave me a look before walking to the desk to our right, the one nearer to Umbridge. I smiled a little at his actions before heading to the desk nearer to the fireplace and a little further away from Umbridge. Putting himself closer to Umbridge would put himself more into the line of fire, which would no doubt be insanely uncomfortable for him, but he had decided to put himself there anyway. Whether he did it to protect me from her or because he felt she would insist he sit there anyway was his business, but it was still a bit touching that he could be feeling a bit protective toward me. Hardly anyone ever felt that sort of thing for me before …

"You're going to be doing some lines for me, children," Umbridge said when we were situated. "No, not with your quill," she said as we bent down to grab our quills. "You're going to be using rather special ones of mine."

"Um … sorry, but … you're letting us use _special_ quills of _yours_ for something as common as detention?" I asked, trying to stay off her bad side while still getting information. "You trust us with them?"

"I'll be watching you the whole time, Miss Dolan," Umbridge said primly as she deposited one quill on Harry's desk. It was long, thin, and black, with an unusually shark point.

"May I ask … what makes these quills special?" I asked as she approached me with the quill I was going to use, which looked identical to Harry's.

"You may ask," Umbridge trilled gaily as she set the quill on the parchment, "but I won't tell. You'll find out.

"Now, I want Miss Dolan to write 'I must respect my superiors.' And I want Mr. Potter to write 'I must not tell lies.'"

"… How many times?" Harry asked.

"Oh, let's see … as long as it takes for the message to _sink in_. Off you go."

"You haven't given us any ink," Harry said.

"Oh, you won't need ink," Umbridge said, barely a suggestion of a laugh in her voice.

If it wasn't for that knowing, excited laugh, I would have assumed the "special" part of the quill was something as simple as a Self-Inking component or something like it. With Umbridge, though, and what I already knew about her due to Professor McGonagall, I guessed it had to be something much darker than that.

Taking a deep breath, I put the quill to the parchment and wrote: _I must respect my superiors_.

A sense of dull, fiery pain began to lance up the back of my hand. It was similar to getting a tattoo (of which I had a couple), but this pain was going much deeper than skin-deep. Breathing deeply through my nose to keep from gasping out loud, I looked down at my left hand, the hand resting on the doily-handkerchief. I felt the blood drain away from my face as I saw the words I had just written appear on the back of my hand in my own handwriting. A moment later, the skin healed over, leaving my hand slightly pink but still quite smooth.

This was Dark Magic!

This couldn't be legal!

Who the hell did she think she was?!

More than anything, I wanted to start screaming and swearing my head off at that horrid bitch and tell her exactly what I thought of her and her detention before storming out and slamming the door in her face as I went to find McGonagall. I turned my head to do just that, but then I caught sight of Harry, who was quite pale and looking very spooked as he stared at his hand. If I followed through with my plan, I would leave him here all alone to suffer through this hell. Professor McGonagall's words rang through my head, warning me to tread carefully around Umbridge and telling me that I needed to keep Harry safe. That made me think twice about retaliating in this way. Oh, I would be retaliating, no doubt about that. I just couldn't hurt Harry in the process. I would have to be more subtle about it.

"Yes?" Umbridge asked, almost as if she expected us to break.

I blinked and looked up at her innocently.

"I didn't say anything," I said. I looked over at Harry. "Did you, Harry?"

He looked up at me, horror hidden deep in his eyes before he saw me give him a small wink and half-smirk. He gulped and said in a surprisingly firm voice,

"Not me. Must have heard something else, Professor."

I gave Harry an approving smirk before getting back to work. It hurt, really bad, but I'd dealt with pain before. I just had to imagine I was getting a tattoo, a really deep and ugly-looking tattoo. Yes, it was sick and twisted and evil, but I'd dealt with that before and I will again. No one had made me break before, and Umbridge sure as hell wouldn't break me either.

Harry and I spent hours writing our assigned lines, cutting ourselves again and again and trying to ignore how absolutely wrong this whole mess was. As the cuts got deeper and deeper, my hand burned in a sharp and dull way at the same time, and it absolutely sucked! I wanted to stop so badly and I knew that I could stop, but Umbridge would make me pick up my quill again and keep writing. No whimper or cry left my mouth the entire time, but my breathing slowly became harder and more staggered as the pain started to get to me. I began to chew my lip and clench my body into one giant fist to take my mind off of the pain, but sometimes all that did was make it worse.

Finally, Umbridge called us to her desk and asked for our hands. Harry motioned for me to show my hand first. I did so, showing her my rubbed-raw hand, which she poked and prodded for a few seconds before asking for Harry's. His hand was pretty much in the same state, which made me cringe slightly.

"Tut, tut," Umbridge said, smiling evilly. "I don't seem to have made much of an impression yet. Well, we'll just have to try again tomorrow evening, won't we? You may go."

Harry and I left her office without another word. I glanced at my watch on the way out and saw that it was almost midnight. We'd been in there for seven hours! And we had to do this three more times!

When we were out in the hall, we looked at each other. The horror of what we'd just experienced was clear on Harry's face, and I guessed that it was on mine as well. We managed to turn the corner before we couldn't hold back our instincts anymore – we ran as fast as we could toward Gryffindor Tower, coming to a gasping halt at the hallway just before it. We collapsed next to each other, trying to catch our breath before we got to the common room.

"What was …" Harry gasped. "Th-That quill …"

"D-Don't know …" I wheezed next to him. "Dammit … that p-piece of _shit …_"

Harry nodded before taking his wounded hand in his other and rubbing it slightly. His green eyes screwed themselves shut as pain hit him again. I reached over and took his hand before he made it worse.

"We'll get her," I said, the desire for vengeance burning deep in my gut. "Don't know how … but we'll get her. Together!"

Harry looked down at our hands for a moment before looking right in my eyes and nodding, squeezing my hand before standing up.

We walked toward the Fat Lady's portrait, hand-in-hand and solidified in our alliance and what I hoped would be a truly great friendship.


	12. The Pink Freak Calls

**Chapter Twelve:**** The Pink Freak Calls**

The next day, my hand still burned, but it was better than the night before. Maybe if I put some aloe vera on it …

Oh well, I didn't have any so I couldn't find that out.

I had Transfiguration, Herbology, and Care of Magical Creatures again today, so I figured I should at least try to finish the homework for those classes first. While I was getting dressed, I practiced Vanishing Spells, and I spent breakfast scribbling a Transfiguration essay down while stuffing my face with a breakfast burrito and chugging down some Ovaltine.

After asking where the choir met, I trotted to class, only to see that Professor Flitwick was the one teaching the class. I smiled a little, remembering how helpful he was. Maybe I could find a way to get a bit ahead on my Charms homework while I was here.

The class was pretty fun, much better than my previous Choir class. Professor Flitwick had us all sing karaoke to see how we all sounded and where our voices fit most comfortably on the scale. The others sang popular wizarding songs or hymns, which all started to sound like each other after a while. When it was my turn, I asked him if he had a preference, and he cheerily told me to sing whatever was my favorite song at the moment. I laughed out loud and bowed, saying that his wish was my command.

It took me a minute to choose a song, but after a bit, I chose "Take A Bow" by Madonna, which would show off a bit of my range. The only thing I didn't like about it was how it would bring out a bit too much vulnerability because this song reminded me strongly of my mother's relationship with me. She knew I loved her and trusted her as any child would trust their mother, but she took it all for granted and did things that she knew would hurt me.

As I sang the ballad, the whole room stared at me, looking as if though they were barely breathing. When I finished, the audience paused for a very long moment and then burst into applause. I let out a sigh of relief when I saw Professor Flitwick smiling proudly and clapping just as loudly as the rest of the class.

"Well done, Miss Dolan!" he squeaked excitedly. "Splendid control, splendid tone, just … simply splendid! I think … a mid-to-high mezzosoprano for you! You'll be partnering with Miss Davis!"

I grinned when I saw a girl calmly waving me over. I skipped over to her and introduced myself. The dark-haired black girl said her name was Tracey Davis, and I got a huge kick out of her! She was a half-blood (Muggle dad and witch mother) from Camden, a borough of London. She was REALLY smart – she loved spending her summers at the British Museum where her father worked – and she wanted to make something amazing out of herself. Her mother was the only daughter of the Shafiq pureblood family, a family with deep connections to banks and goblins dating back to the Moors, and Tracey wanted to try to mend relations between wizards and goblins.

"If we had some sort of … ambassador between the two, one that both parties trusted," she told me over break, "things would go much smoother!" She said she was learning Gobbledegook, the goblins' language, and spending all of her free time studying goblin history and culture in preparation for getting a job in the Ministry in the Goblin Liaison Office. I grinned as I listened to her passionate speechifying; this girl had her life pinned down – past, present, and future! She was proud of her past and took inspiration for that to plan out her present in order to make her future the way she wanted.

After break, we made our way to Transfiguration. It wasn't until we got into the classroom for our double period that I noticed where Tracey was going to sit – with the Slytherins!

I blinked in surprise as I realized that Tracey was a Slytherin and had tried to make friends with me while knowing that I was a Gryffindor. I looked over at her and saw that, under her calm mask, she actually looked rather … nervous! She knew that I knew what she was now, and she was wondering if I would continue to be friendly with her. Looking around, I noticed that she'd sat down on the edge of Slytherin territory, leaving a seat open for someone to take … a seat that was close enough to Gryffindor territory to make any other self-respecting Slytherin nervous.

Ignoring the incredulous stares of my fellow Gryffindors, I walked over to Tracey and asked, "Is this seat taken?"

Tracey smiled in delighted relief and said, "Be my guest. If you dare."

I grinned back and sat down beside her without any hesitation.

"If I dare to stand up to the Were-Toad," I said, grinning wider at her barely smothered snort of laughter at my nickname for Umbridge, "I can dare to sit next to a Slytherin. Who knows? Maybe we could … end up friends?"

Tracey controlled her mirth and grinned back at me.

"I'd like that!"

Transfiguration was difficult due to the fact that I'd barely practiced Vanishing Spells, but poor Harry was clearly the worst. He stumbled through the class looking hopelessly lost and frustrated. He and I went to the library during lunch to finish some more homework, and during Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, we got more and more homework that we highly doubted we'd even get to start that night due to our detention with Umbridge, who was slowly inspiring more awful nicknames, each one dirtier and nastier than the last. To top it off, Angelina started harassing Harry when she found out he hadn't gotten Friday off. She actually dared to say that she expected players who wished to remain on the team to put training before their other commitments!

"I'm in detention!" Harry yelled after her as she stalked away. "D'you think I'd rather be stuck in a room with that old toad or playing Quidditch?!"

"At least it's only lines," Hermione said consolingly as Harry sat heavily on the bench and stared morosely at his steak-and-kidney pie. "It's not as if it's a dreadful punishment, really …"

I couldn't help flinching at Hermione's statement. If she only knew …

I absently rubbed the back of my hand, which had ached and pinched all day like a bad burn. I looked up at Harry, who looked like he was thinking too hard about something. I quickly kicked him under the table, making him look up at me in shock and indignation.

"Your ears were practically steaming just now," I said with a knowing smirk. "Give your brain a break before you wear it out!"

Harry blinked before chuckling quietly.

"Like you can talk," he chuckled. "Before you sat down next to Davis, I could hear your brain working!"

I gave a quick bark of laughter, almost missing how Harry jumped at the sound.

"Well, it would cause the drama of the year!" I cackled. "A Slytherin and a Gryffindor being friends? The horror! I was trying to decide if it's worth it!"

"And was it?" Ron asked sourly.

I gave him a cold glare that made him squirm almost instantly.

"Yes," I said firmly. "Tracey is intelligent, ambitious, and wants to make this world just a little better!"

"How?" Ron asked bitterly. "Poisoning fellow students?"

I picked up a Yorkshire pudding off of a nearby plate and chucked it right at Ron, smirking when it hit him in the eye. I noticed Hermione trying to hide a smirk behind her concern for Ron as she checked him over. Harry just laughed out loud at the sight of Ron being attacked by food.

"For your information, Ronald," I said, adopting Hermione's snootiest tone, "she actually wants to be an ambassador between wizards and goblins. Her mother's family has good connections with them, and she wants to use that to better our world. Maybe the goblins would be less likely to rebel if there were a few witches and wizards who were willing to get their side of the story."

"You think that would work?" Hermione asked, suddenly very interested in the idea. "It would be wonderful to finally get some equality in the wizarding world!"

"Tell me about it, 'Mione!" I said after swallowing a bite of steak-and-kidney pie. "Seriously, the way wizards treat goblins, it's just like how the Nazis treated the Jewish bankers before they shipped them off to those camps."

"Come again?!" Ron choked, looking completely confused, while Hermione and Harry nodded.

"Back in the forties," I said exasperatedly, "some nut called Adolf Hitler decided Jews were to blame for all of Germany's problems and used his political power to smear them with the Ugly Brush. One theory he had was that they'd achieve world domination by controlling all the banks, like the goblins do with us. Since a lot of Jews were bankers, people believed that theory quite easily."

Ron blinked at the idea that something in the wizarding world could be anything like the Muggle world, but since Detention was so close, I couldn't stay to debate it with him.

"Gotta go," I said as Harry and I stood up. "The Pink Freak calls."

Some of the others burst into laughter at the name while others, like Lavender Brown who LOVED pink, looked at least mildly offended. I shrugged and followed Harry out of the Great Hall, down the hall to our little corner of Hell.

Tonight's detention was just as bad as the night before and left our hands looking red and inflamed, like the skin was having an allergic reaction. We didn't let a single moan of pain or discomfort cross our lips, Harry only bidding her good evening and good night. Somehow he'd become the spokesperson for the pair of us; I didn't mind it as long as it kept me away from her.

When we got back to the Gryffindor common room, I immediately dug out the Charms essay I needed to finish for tomorrow. I had the Potions essay done but Harry didn't, so I whipped it out and passed it over to him, willing to cheat if it allowed us to get some more sleep. Normally I wouldn't cheat, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Harry muttered his thanks before scribbling his own essay down, nodding when I reminded him to reorder things and write in his own style so we wouldn't get caught.

After I finished the Charms essay, which took me about an hour and a half, I went over my schedule for the next day to see if I needed to do any more homework. Charms was done, Potions was done, and I didn't have any homework for Defense, so tomorrow was covered. After noticing that Harry had his homework from today out as well, I decided to get started on that next. The questions Professor McGonagall had set us about Vanishing Spells were easier than I'd originally thought since I had good notes, and Professor Grubbly-Plank's essay about the proper handling of bowtruckles was sloppy but complete. The Astronomy homework had been collected during our morning break and thankfully wouldn't be due until our next class on the following Wednesday, so we let that slide for now. After sharing what I had with Harry and hoping he was at least awake enough to not copy my work word-for-word, we trudged up to our dormitories. I kicked off my shoes and flopped onto my bed, only to instantly fall into a not-very-restful sleep.


	13. Making It All Worth It

**Chapter Thirteen:**** Making It All Worth It **

Going to class on Thursday was like walking through molasses while surrounded by the thickest pea-soup fog. I don't really remember much about each class; I turned in my paper in Charms and got another right away, I nearly got my head bitten off in Potions for not even attempting to read the recipe for the potion we were supposed to be making, and I literally held my eyelids open in Defense to keep myself from falling asleep.

Detention started as it had the last two nights, but two hours in, the phrase "I must respect my superiors" refused to heal and fade away. Instead it scabbed over, leaving the phrase literally written in blood on my hand. Normally this would have freaked me out, but I remembered Professor McGonagall telling me to come to her with anything I felt she needed to know. This was definitely something she needed to know, but I needed to have proof so she could actually make a case against Umbridge. After a slight pause to inspect my scabbed hand, I continued writing the same phrase over and over again, adding just a bit more pressure to dig just a bit deeper. It sounds sick, I know, but if it got Dumbridge fired and/or arrested, I would handle it.

To my right, Harry paused as well, long enough for Umbridge to notice.

"Ah," she said softly, moving around her desk toward him. "Good. That ought to serve as a reminder to you, oughtn't it? You may leave for tonight."

"What about …?" Harry asked, no doubt looking worriedly over at me.

I heard the click-clack of Umbridge's heels as she waddled over to me. I paused in my writing as she came up to me, her hand held out for mine. When I placed my hand in hers, I grimaced a little at the sight of my hand covered in blood, which was steadily oozing from the cuts I'd been inflicting.

"Well done, Miss Dolan," she cooed sickeningly. I bit my tongue against a swell of rage that awoke at those words. Well done, for abusing myself at her whim?! What the hell was the _matter_ with this bi … oh, you know what I mean!

"It seems you've got a decent reminder as well. You may leave with Mr. Potter for tonight."

"We still have to come back tomorrow, right?" I asked, knowing the answer but wanting to seem the whiny student so she wouldn't see my scheming.

"Oh yes," she said with a Cheshire Cat grin. "Yes, I think we can etch the message a little deeper with another evening's work."

I simply sighed heavily and nodded, following after Harry as he left the room as fast as he could without seeming hurried. As we got far enough away, though, I let myself grin wolfishly. If the message was etched deeper than it was right now, it just might do some nerve or muscle damage to my hand. Thankfully it wasn't my wand hand, but it would be enough to show that Umbridge was VERY dangerous and shouldn't be allowed around children.

"What's that grin for?" Harry asked.

I grinned over at him and said, "I told you we'd get her."

When Harry just looked horribly confused, I looked up and down the hallway to make sure we were alone and began to elaborate.

"We've got proof now!" I said excitedly. "Proof that she's hurting us! And if she hurts us, she can hurt other students! Since we have concrete proof that she's using Dark Magic on students, we can get her sacked! Maybe even arrested!"

"But who would believe us?" Harry lamented. "They already think I'm a nutter, and, no offense, you're just some American witch who doesn't know how things are run here! She's literally a step below the Minister here; she has more than enough power to stop McGonagall in her tracks!"

"Then we'll go to Dumbledore!" I said, starting to get frustrated. "He's Headmaster, he can stop this!"

"He doesn't care!" Harry yelled, obviously close to his breaking point. "I made sure to tell him first that Voldemort was back, but over the summer, he had me followed, and he wouldn't tell me anything about what was happening and made _my friends_ swear to do the same! He did come to my hearing and get me off, but he wouldn't talk to me or even acknowledge me! He doesn't trust me, he doesn't think I can do anything, he won't even look me in the eye anymore! If he … didn't care about me before … why would he care now?"

That last sentence was said with such vulnerability and fear that, before I fully realized what had happened, my arms were around his waist and pulling him close. He noticeably stiffened in my embrace, but after a moment, he hesitantly wrapped his arms around me and hugged me back.

"I'm so sorry," I said into his shoulder. "I had no idea!"

Harry didn't say anything, just held me tighter and pressed his face into my hair.

"Maybe …" I said, "we should … test the waters with this. Tell McGonagall and get a better idea of what she can or can't do. If she can't do anything, we're on our own. If she can, we'll follow her lead. We don't have to bug Dumbledore about this just yet, 'kay?"

Harry nodded against my head just before I felt his body jerk as he gave a silent sob. I felt my heart break and my stomach plummet as I realized he was crying into my hair. My arms tightened even more around him and my hands began to stroke up and down his spine as I tried my best to comfort him. We stood there for a few minutes until he could get himself back under control.

"Talk to me, Harry," I begged quietly. "You don't have to tell me everything. Just say … something!"

It took a long wait, but Harry finally lowered enough of his walls to admit one heartbreaking truth of his.

"I haven't felt this alone … since before I got my Hogwarts letter. And it's worse this time. I … know what it's like now … to have support. To not have it anymore … i-it hurts!"

"I know," I murmured into his shoulder. "I feel the same. I haven't had to stand on my own for a long time … I'd almost forgotten how lonely it is. How … unbalanced you feel …"

There was a tense pause, as if Harry was waiting for more but didn't know how to ask for it.

"I had a teacher in Ilvermorny," I said, "who's more of a mom than anything. I could … talk to her about anything. She always stood up for me … even to the other teachers. I miss her so damn much! I want her here with me, telling me everything will be OK, that she'll take care of it!"

"Yeah," Harry murmured, rubbing my back this time. "What's her name?"

I smirked against his shoulder before saying, "Jo Rowling."

"Jo?" Harry asked.

"Short for Josephine," I said. "Her mom was a bit of a classic literature fan."

Harry let out a small chuckle, which made me smile a bit wider.

We stood there, quietly holding each other, for a long time before I dared to ask, "You know I support you, right?"

"… Yeah," Harry said quietly but firmly. "Yeah, I do. …Thanks."

I gave Harry one last squeeze and pulled back to smile at him. I casually used my fingers to wipe his cheeks dry, ignoring the fact that they were slowly warming under my touch.

"No problem," I said with an almost nonchalant smirk. "Shall we head back to our Pride?"

Harry blinked for a moment before smiling back at me. He nodded and started leading me down the hall. After a bit, I slipped my arm through his again, making him jump in surprise before grinning down at me.

We ran into Ron on the seventh floor, hiding behind a statue of someone called "Lachlan the Lanky" and clutching a broomstick in his hands. He nearly leaped out of his skin when he saw us and tried to hide his broom behind him.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked.

"Er – nothing," Ron stammered. "What are _you_ doing?"

"Following the Yellow-Brick Road," I snapped. "What d'you think we're doing?"

"Come on, you can tell us!" Harry said, smothering a snicker at my comment. "What are you hiding here for?"

"I'm – I'm hiding from Fred and George, if you must know," Ron said in a very fast, feverish way. "They just went past with a bunch of first years, I bet they're testing stuff on them again, I mean, they can't do it in the common room now, can they, not with Hermione and Reggie there."

"But what have you got your broom for?" Harry asked. "You haven't been flying, have you?"

"I – well – well, okay, I'll tell you, but don't laugh, alright?" Ron said defensively, steadily turning as red as a stop-light. "I-I thought I'd try out for Gryffindor Keeper now I've got a decent broom. There. Go on. Laugh."

Harry and I looked at each other before looking back at Ron.

"We're not laughing," Harry said. "It's a brilliant idea! It'd be really cool if you got on the team! I've never seen you play Keeper, are you good?"

"I'm not bad," Ron said, looking relieved enough to melt into a puddle right in front of us. "Charlie, Fred, and George always made me Keep for them when they were training during the holidays."

"How would you do that?" I asked, wanting to be a part of the conversation, but not knowing exactly how Quidditch worked.

Judging by the horrified looks on Ron and Harry's faces, I'd asked one of the worst questions ever.

"You … d'you know Quidditch, Reggie?" Ron asked, looking absolutely appalled.

"Um, n-not really," I said, awkwardly avoiding their gazes. "Americans follow Quodpot more than Quidditch."

"Quod-what?!" Ron gasped.

"Quodpot," I said. "You basically have a ball that will explode if you don't put it in the other team's basket. If it explodes in your possession, you're out. Whichever team has the most points when at least one team is completely out wins the game. Real easy but loads of fun!"

Harry looked vaguely interested, but Ron just looked frankly disgusted. I gave them a slight shrug.

"I am interested in Quidditch though," I said with an excited smile. "From what I've been told, it looks really exciting!"

Properly placated, Ron and Harry spent our trek to Gryffindor Tower explaining Quidditch to me. Per team, there were three Chasers who would make goals, two Beaters who would defend their team and attack their opponents, one Keeper who would defend the goal posts, and one Seeker who would find the one ball that would more often than not win their team the game. There were rules about what you could and couldn't do, obviously, and leave it to Ron to know all the ways to foul in a Quidditch game. He would have listed all SEVEN HUNDRED of them if I hadn't told him he was starting to sound like Hermione, which made Harry laugh out loud.

We got to the common room, which was bustling with life. I looked around at the teens and preteens around me, suddenly feeling like a ghost walking through the crowd. Harry and I sat down on the couch in front of the fire, getting out our homework in the knowledge that we needed to get as much of it done as possible just in case Umbridge kept us longer than normal.

A few minutes later, we heard Ron and Hermione coming toward us. Ron was asking for help on his essay and eventually, Hermione agreed to write the introduction and conclusion.

"Hermione, you are honestly the most wonderful person I have ever met," Ron gushed in relief. "If I'm ever rude to you …"

"I'll know you've gone back to normal," Hermione said with a small grin as she sat down next to Harry and Ron sat down next to me.

We sat there for a while before Hermione asked Harry what was wrong with his hand.

"Nothing," Harry said, showing her his unblemished right hand while simultaneously hiding his marred left hand under the book he was reading.

"Your other hand!" Hermione hissed, reaching out to grab it. She gently pulled Harry's sleeve down a little to get a better view of his hand, slowly looking more and more horrified.

"You've got to go to Dumbledore!" she said, looking absolutely outraged.

"No," Harry said, taking his hand back and scooting slightly more towards me. "Dumbledore's got enough on his mind right now. Anyway, I don't want to give Umbridge the satisfaction."

"Bloody hell, Harry," Ron gasped, looking sick and more than a little angry, "the woman's torturing you! If your parents knew about this …"

"Yeah, well I haven't got any of those, have I Ron?" Harry asked caustically, causing a rather tense silence that only lasted a couple seconds.

"Harry, you've got to report this," Hermione said stiffly, obviously disapproving of Harry's choice to not say anything. "It's perfectly simple, you're being –"

"No, it's not!" Harry said, looking almost offended. "Hermione, whatever this is, it's not simple! You don't understand," he added, beginning to pack his things.

"Then help us to!" Hermione begged, but Harry just ignored her.

Just before he stormed up to his dorm, I reached out and grabbed his sleeve, making him look at me.

"You want me to join you?" I asked.

He looked at Ron and Hermione before giving me a curt nod. I nodded back and released his sleeve, allowing him to storm off as I prepared myself for what I was about to say.

"The last time Harry 'reported' something," I said, trying to stay calm, "he was called a glory-seeking liar. Even if he has proof, they just might find a way to wiggle out of whatever legal crap follows."

"But if he goes to Dumbledore –" Hermione started, but I overrode her.

"I offered to do that, too," I said, talking through gritted teeth this time. "He says Dumbledore doesn't care anymore, that he's dropped Harry like a used tissue. And from what Harry's told me, I wholeheartedly agree! He wanted information this summer, but he couldn't even ask the people he trusted most 'cuz they wouldn't share even the tiniest hint with him!"

"Dumbledore made us –"

"Made you swear, I know!" I said heatedly. "But surely you could have found a way around it! Found a way Death Eaters wouldn't be able to track or intercept! Like, I dunno, using the Muggle post office! Seriously, you guys! He needs your support, and you kissing the ground Dumbledore walks on isn't helping! Dumbledore obviously wants Harry to be left alone, defenseless, and vulnerable, which makes it so damn easier for Voldemort to snatch him up!"

"Watch your lan –"

"I think I'm entitled to a little swearing right now!" I said, standing up and scooping my homework into my arms. "Yes, I know you don't like it, but if it's the only way to make you listen, then I'll swear away! Let me know when you're ready to support Harry as real friends should."

With that, I stormed up to the fifth year boys' dorm room, where I found Harry sitting on his bed, stretching his neck in a way that reminded me of a snake shedding its skin. I walked over to him and sat down, dropping my homework on the floor in front of me.

"What do you make of this Charms essay?" I asked, ignoring how he'd jumped when I sat down. "I can barely remember what we talked about."

Harry stared at me for a moment before reaching over and taking my hand, squeezing it tightly in gratitude. I interlocked our fingers and squeezed back, returning his thanks. Then he dropped my hand and picked up his Charms book, opening to the chapter we'd gone over that day.

We spent the evening going over most of our homework and avoiding anything to do with Umbridge, including her assignments. We knew that griping and worrying about her wouldn't fix the problems we had with her, so we set them aside in favor of helping each other in the few ways we could.

Once we had our Charms and Potions essays completed, we sat on opposite ends of Harry's bed and just talked some more about Quidditch. Harry was the Seeker for his team, like his father had been before him, and he was incredibly passionate about it. He told me about past games (which made me cheer and cringe in equal amounts) and about his views on the upcoming season.

That hour or so of talking and laughing created something that I felt Harry truly needed this year – a safe haven, a place he could go to get away from everything and be "Just Harry" instead of "Harry Potter". More than anything, I wanted Harry to feel safe with me, to trust me, to want to confide in me. I'd never felt it so strongly before or acted on any such feelings before, so I didn't really know if I was doing this right. What showed me that I was, though, was the hug Harry gave me before I left to go to bed. The feeling of his arms pulling me almost desperately close and the sound of his tremulous voice quietly thanking me made all of his drama-queen temper tantrums worth it.


	14. Here To Stay

**Chapter Fourteen:**** Here To Stay**

Harry's POV:

Harry woke up to see a sky as sullen as he felt, with inky-gray clouds swirling around as if begging to unleash the chaos they held. He sighed quietly and forced himself to get up, telling himself that today was the final day he would have to endure Umbridge's detentions and that he might be able to see Ron's tryout from her office. Those rays of light were feeble at best, but he couldn't let them go if he wanted to stay sane.

He got to the common room and found Reggie waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs with an encouraging smile on her face. Despite the gloom he felt, he couldn't help but smile back at her as she slipped her arm through his and allowed him to escort her to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Seeing her again made him remember that couple of hours that she'd spent with him the night before, not worrying about Voldemort or Umbridge for once. She made sure he didn't talk about anything that might bring those two subjects up, quickly changing the subject if they strayed there and almost overwhelming me with a feeling of … normalcy. He didn't know what it was about Reggie, but he never felt like he had to be "Harry Potter" around her. He could be "Just Harry", and that was enough to keep her attention, make her feel comfortable around him, make her smile or laugh, and maybe even trust him. She wasn't afraid to call him out on my attitude and she always did it in a way that woke him up as effectively as a bucket of ice-cold water. She was enthusiastic to learn about his view of the world, even if it was much darker or frightening than her own. She was also so … understanding of what he was going through, willing to defend him even to my closest friends. Every moment he spent around her seemed important, like something inside him was literally clinging to her presence, and he couldn't help but pay the closest attention to her as she chose to spend more and more time around him.

During breakfast, she continued to insist on giving him extra food, this time putting a couple fried eggs onto his plate. The way she did it so casually and almost mischievously smothered any anger he might feel at the idea of being fussed over and always persuaded him to eat whatever she put on his plate. He knew Seamus thought she had him whipped (he'd been blowing off to Dean again while he was trying to sleep), but after having lived so long with someone not caring if he ate well or not every day, it was nice to be looked after and cared about for once.

History of Magic was actually funny this time around because he started watching Reggie out of the corner of his eye as she fought to stay awake in order to keep himself awake. Sometimes she would shake her head vigorously and send her dark hair flying around her face, creating a dark halo of curls; other times, she would pinch herself on her wrist or cheek, making him wince at how stoically she took the pain; by the end of class, she was literally holding her eyes open with her fingers, making him fight to not burst into laughter.

Study Hall, a class that had been introduced last year, was mainly a case of helping each other out as he and Reggie had last night. They went over our essays again, scouring their books for any information to flesh them out, and made certain they understood the concepts enough to do well on a test. Unlike Snape, who had monitored the class last year, Professor Flitwick saw nothing wrong with sharing information for the sake of learning and allowed the students to talk as long as it was along the lines of comparing notes or asking for help.

After lunch, during which Ron and Hermione kept themselves apart from them, the afternoon was simply dedicated to relaxing outside. He took Reggie on a small tour of the grounds, knowing they would need to be at Umbridge's office at five o'clock. She liked giving him a heart attack by teasing the Whomping Willow, loved teasing him as they danced and chased each other through the trees on the edge of the Dark Forest, and absolutely adored walking around the Quidditch pitch as he described the game to her again. He would have given her a ride on his Firebolt, but they needed to head to Umbridge's office or they would be late for detention.

At five o'clock that night, he was knocking on Umbridge's door, arm-in-arm with Reggie to give comfort and support to each other. When they were told to enter, they let go of each other and did so for what he sincerely hoped would be the last time. The blank parchments were waiting for them on the lace-covered tables, the blasted quills beside them.

"You know what to do, children," Umbridge said sweetly.

Her face like stone, Reggie marched over to her desk, sat down, and began to write almost feverishly, no doubt causing her hand even more damage than was strictly necessary. He felt a small jolt of worry for her but smothered it to make sure Umbridge didn't see it as he sat down, wiggling his chair just an inch or so to the right to give himself a clearer view of the Quidditch pitch, though it was impossible to tell which Keeper was Ron from this distance.

_I must not tell lies,_ he wrote. He flinched slightly as the cut on his hand reopened and began to bleed again.

_I must not tell lies._ The cut went deeper, stinging as his fingers barely flexed.

_I must not tell lies._ Blood had landed on the lace beside the parchment, staining it red.

He risked one small glance out the window. Whoever was Keeping was doing very poorly, as the Chaser had scored twice in the few seconds he dared watch. He returned his gaze to the parchment before the pause in writing could alert Umbridge. He forced himself to keep going, knowing that he couldn't stop until Umbridge told him he could. He peeked at the tryouts whenever he could, making quick judgements on the little he could see. One person was pretty good, the next was terrible, and another could dodge Bludgers spectacularly but fumbled easy saves. With how dark the sky was getting, he doubted he would see the last two people at all.

"Let's see if you've gotten the message yet, shall we?" Umbridge asked sweetly thirty minutes later.

She waddled over to him and reached out with her knobby, stubby fingers to grab his left arm. The moment she touched him, his forehead burned with pain and he felt the strangest swoop in his stomach, almost like the one he felt whenever he made Reggie laugh. Before he could even think, he wrenched my arm from her grasp and leapt to his feet, knocking over the chair in his haste to get away from her. He heard Reggie gasp and swear quietly, but he was too busy staring at Umbridge to check on her as she smiled sickeningly at him.

"Yes, it hurts, doesn't it?" she asked.

His scar or his hand? Which was she talking about?!

"Well, I think I've made my point, Mr. Potter. You may go."

Only then did he dare to glance over at Reggie, who was holding her steadily-bleeding hand as if it was hurting very badly. She looked nervous to be around Umbridge but resolved to fight through this mess.

"Miss Dolan will remain here until she had gotten the message," Umbridge said, no doubt seeing the glance he'd given Reggie. "You may _go_, Mr. Potter."

He started turning and made eye contact with Reggie again, who nodded firmly at him and jerked her head toward the door, telling him it was alright to leave.

Walking down to the classroom door was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. Every step felt like he was a piece of metal walking away from a magnet; every inch of him wanted to be back with Reggie or at least taking her place. He was the one who'd picked the fight; she'd just supported him in that! She shouldn't be punished for being friends with him!

He found an alcove near the Defence classroom and sat there, waiting for Reggie to come out and ... praying that she would be alright. He knew what had happened with my scar was a very bad sign, but he was too worried about Reggie to even think about anything else, which was mental! He knew she could take care of herself and that she would be fine, but the idea of her being alone with Umbridge where he couldn't be there to support her somehow made him nauseous and made his head hurt even more. It felt like there was suddenly a wall in his head and there was someone hitting it with a battering ram.

He have no idea how long he sat there with his head in his hands to try and help my headache, but the moment he heard the door open, his head was up and his eyes were anxiously peering into the shadows to see who was there. The relief he felt at seeing Reggie in a bit of a temper was almost overwhelming.

"Reggie!" he called, stumbling to his feet and hurrying over to her.

"Harry?" she hissed, looking shocked and confused at my being there. "What are you –?"

"Are you alright?" he asked, gripping her shoulders lightly in an attempt to show himself that she was here, safe, with him!

"Y-Yeah, I'm – I'm fine!" she said, flinching away from him slightly for a moment before looking up at him. "Are you OK? You look like you've just ... had a-a nightmare or something!"

He opened his mouth to tell her what had happened with Umbridge but closed it when he realized that she had no idea what was going on with him and Voldemort. The idea that she had no clue what had happened and still stood by him and supported him was strangely humbling. Without a word, He pulled her close and hid his face in her hair as he had last night. Somehow, holding her and breathing in the scent of coffee and vanilla that always clung to her centred him and gave him the strength he would need to say what he needed to say.

"Harry?" she asked as he pulled away, suddenly sounding very small and scared as she looked up at him.

"I ... I need to tell you something," he said, holding onto her shoulders again. "It's ... really bad ... and it'll make you run off and you'll probably never get a real night's sleep again, but I need to tell you! You need to know."

She blinked once, and then he watched as a strong, steely look came into her gaze. Her hands came up and grasped the opening in his robes as she stared right into his eyes.

"Is it about Voldemort?" she asked solemnly.

He was surprised she guessed it but nodded.

She nodded in return before releasing my robes with a small wolfish grin.

"Lead the way," she said, slipping her arm through his as he gaped at her. They somehow made it to the Fat Lady, who opened when Reggie said the password, and up to his dormitory, but he couldn't really say how. He was just so gobsmacked that she was taking all this in stride! Most people would have left the moment they could ... but then again, Reggie wasn't "most people".

They stayed up there for hours, sitting on opposite ends of his bed as he told her everything about the last four years, even mentioning a few things he hadn't ever told Ron and Hermione. She spent the first thirty minutes curled up at the foot of his bed with a stony expression on her face as she silently dared him to shock her.

When he got to the part about what was really under Professor Quirrell's turban, her eyes widened dramatically and she surprisingly began to chuckle. When he asked her what she was laughing at, she reminded him that the Weasley twins had charmed snowballs to hit the back of Quirrell's head that Christmas, which meant they'd been hitting Voldemort in the face the entire time. He gaped at her for a moment before starting to laugh himself, not realizing that at all until then.

She was especially angry over how people had treated him during his second year. She actually brought up a very good point: if Harry was the Heir of Slytherin, why would he have spent his time with a blood traitor and a Muggleborn? She actually made him laugh again when she called Ernie McMillan a "paranoid, snot-nosed punk" who wouldn't know the Heir of Slytherin if he kissed him on the mouth. The mental picture of Voldemort kissing anyone, let alone a Hufflepuff student, was absolutely stupid and yet hilarious.

When he told her about his third year and his adventures with Sirius Black, she became especially alert. She asked him if Sirius was the brother of her mother Harry was going to be asking about her father, and he told her yes. It almost broke his heart to see hope flicker in her eyes before being firmly shut out by whatever stone-cold, realistic thoughts she'd told herself to keep from getting her hopes up.

The story of his fourth year got the most spirited reaction out of her. She was furious that Dumbledore hadn't tried to help him get out of the Tournament, ecstatic that he'd showed the world what he could do in the tasks, miffed with Ron for even thinking he was showing off somehow, horrified with stories of Professor Moody's classes, and heartbroken at the tale of the Third Task and what had happened afterwards. That tale was the hardest one to tell, partially because it was hard to remember what was dream and what was memory and partially because his worst nightmares had literally come to life that night and talking about it made it more real.

When he was done, he lay down on the bed and waited for her to decide that it was too dangerous to be with him and leave. He was surprised when she crawled up the bed and sat down right next to his head. She made him sit up and scooted over to where his pillow was before pulling him down until his head was in her lap. When he looked up at her questioningly, all she said was,

"I don't know how you got through those four years without me, but you don't need to worry about that anymore."

He slowly reached up and took the hand she had on his chest as her words sank into every dark spot inside him. Tears burned his eyes, but he closed them before she could see them. She simply squeezed his hand and used the other to run her fingers through his hair as he fought to get himself under control. He told himself that he couldn't cry, not here where she could see him, but his ruddy eyes wouldn't listen. Tear after tear broke free of his eyes and fell down his cheeks and into her lap as he finally realized that she was really here to stay.


	15. Betrayals and Promises

**Chapter Fifteen:**** Betrayals and Promises**

Hearing about the last four years of Harry's life was like listening to a series of well-written novels. I could clearly picture everything Harry was telling me; he was a natural storyteller who had a talent for painting amazing pictures with nothing but words.

I paid special attention to anything he said about his godfather, Sirius Black, who could potentially be my uncle. I liked how loyal and brave he was, but he also seemed very immature and rather spiteful. Hearing how he thought it would be "funny" to trick a fellow student to sneak into a room that held a fully-grown werewolf turned my stomach more than a little, whether or not that fellow student was Snape. Still, he could be family, and I would love to meet him if he was. I wanted to know where I came from and have something in my past to brag about and be proud of.

What absolutely broke my heart was how shocked Harry was when he realized that I was staying around. He held my hand like it was his last lifeline and cried silently as I stroked his hair and tried to not cry myself. In that moment, he finally looked like the scared fifteen-year-old he was; for so long, he'd held onto his mask of the Boy-Who-Lived that he'd all but forgotten how to be "Just Harry".

We stayed there until the other boys went to bed; they couldn't see us because we'd drawn the curtains around the bed before we started talking. Harry had managed to cry himself to sleep about an hour before, so once all the boys started snoring, I carefully got out of his bed and stood up on legs that fallen asleep long ago. Once I knew I wouldn't trip while my feet were waking up, I quickly scribbled a note for Harry explaining where I'd gone and pinned it to the inside of his bed's curtains where he would find it. Hermione and the other girls were asleep when I got there, so I just put my pajamas on and went to bed as quietly as I could.

I didn't get a whole lot of sleep that night, my dreams filled with my mind's version of what had happened to Harry. Hermione finally woke me up to find me growling and snapping like a cranky wolverine. Definitely afraid of getting her head bitten off, she told me that breakfast was almost over and that I needed to get a move on if I wanted anything to eat.

About ten minutes later, I found myself in front of Professor McGonagall's office with a napkin full of jam-covered slices of toast in my bloodied and bandaged left hand. I have to say, Professor McGonagall seemed very surprised to see me.

"Miss Dolan! What can I do for you?" she asked.

"You said to come to you if I found something you needed to know," I said simply.

Professor McGonagall nodded crisply and let me in, completely professional in the realization that this wasn't a social visit. I held out my toast and jam in offering, having noticed that she seemed to be partial to boysenberry while I preferred raspberry. She accepted her slice with a grateful smile and took a few bites before gesturing to me to speak.

I took a deep breath and set the toast down before holding up my wounded hand.

"And what exactly happened here, Miss Dolan?" Professor McGonagall asked, looking a little confused and more than a little indignant.

"Detention," I said coldly. "With Umbridge. Harry's hand is the same way."

With that, I started unwrapping the bandage, revealing the hated words carved into my hand. I noticed that the skin around it was red and slightly swollen, like it was starting to get infected or something.

"Sweet, merciful Merlin!" Professor McGonagall gasped, hurrying around her desk to get a better look at my hand. She looked absolutely horrified as she examined the wound, gently running her fingers over it and carefully prodding at certain spots. She had me flex my hand, drum my fingers, and hold various items to make sure I didn't have any nerve damage. Then she stormed over to her desk and began to write vigorously on a parchment. I stood up and walked around the desk to see what she was writing; turns out she was documenting my injury and the effects the injury had on my hand in general.

Then something I didn't expect happened.

Professor McGonagall stood up and stormed out of her office, her face absolutely thunderous.

I was too shocked to do anything at first, not having expected to react so strongly this soon after my confession, but after a while I realized I was missing a show and hurried to find her. I found her in the Entrance Hall talking to Professor Umbridge on the staircase.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Umbridge oozed, "but what exactly are you insinuating?"

"I am merely requesting," Professor McGonagall, "that when it comes to my students, you conform to the prescribed disciplinary practices!"

Umbridge paused before saying sternly, "So silly of me, but it sounds as though you are questioning my authority in my own classroom … Minerva." Then she took a step up the stairs, putting her just above Professor McGonagall.

My eyes almost popped out of my head at the sheer and complete disrespect this toad had in her towards the staff here. Not only was she placing herself above Professor McGonagall as if she felt she belonged there, but she wasn't even awarding Professor McGonagall the respect of referring to her by the title she'd held for many years! If anything, Professor McGonagall was above Umbridge in the hierarchy of the Hogwarts staff since she, not Umbridge, was Deputy Headmistress of the school! How I itched to slap that horrible, smug smile off of that ugly, pasty face.

Fortunately, Professor McGonagall was not to be intimidated.

"Not at all, _Dolores_," she snarled, taking a step up to bring herself level with Umbridge again. "Merely your medieval methods!"

"I'm sorry, dear," Umbridge sniffed, sounding absolutely offended, "but to question my practices is to question the Ministry and, by extension, the Minister _himself!_ I am a tolerant woman, but the one thing I will not stand for … is _disloyalty!_"

I felt my stomach sink down to the floor as Professor McGonagall took a step back, repeating the word "disloyalty" as if it had punched her in the gut. I understood her sentiment; disloyalty is one thing that any Gryffindor found completely disgusting since we were always loyal to the causes and people that we believed in, and to accuse a Gryffindor of it was to say they weren't a true Gryffindor. Umbridge might as well have had Professor McGonagall's Sorting revoked for all the damage she'd just done.

Umbridge took another step up, fixing Professor McGonagall with a haughty look before saying, "Things at Hogwarts are far worse than I feared. Cornelius will want to take immediate action!"

In a million years, I would never know what made me do it, but I stepped forward and said the words that would make me Umbridge's enemy forever.

"Let him try. We'll be ready!"

I gave Umbridge the full fury of my glare all while standing alone in the middle of the Entrance Hall with a few members of the student body behind me. I was surprised when I felt someone put their hand in mine. I almost immediately recognized the strong yet gentle grip as Harry's. A couple moments later, I felt Hermione's feminine and firm hand slip into my free hand. Then, the sound of multiple feet came up behind me as many different students came up and either held the hand of someone in the line or put his or her hand on another's shoulder. Professor McGonagall looked to be frightened but very proud of us, while Umbridge's face was very stony, like she was mentally preparing herself to go to war with Hogwarts itself. Without a word, she turned and continued back up the stairs.

Professor McGonagall came up to us and looked Harry and me straight in the eyes.

"You as well, Potter?" she asked.

Harry simply nodded, serious and firm as any soldier.

After nodding in return, she stepped back to survey all of the students before her.

"You all must be very careful," she said, sounding very tired and anxious. "As you have just seen, there is very little that I can do to keep Professor Umbridge in line. I implore you to be smart and to know that I am here to help you if you do need it. I cannot promise that I will be able to do anything of importance, but anything I can do for you, my students, I will do without any hesitation.

"I am keeping a record of Professor Umbridge's dealings in preparation for the day she gets her … comeuppance. If you do come to me about her, know that every word and action will be recorded and witnessed by myself and any other teacher who picks up this practice.

"Now, I'm sure you all have breakfast to finish and homework to handle. Away!"

She shooed us off with a feeble wave of her long, regal hands, and the crowd started to shuffle away.

I couldn't move from my spot, though. I was too overwhelmed with what had just happened. I had actually put my trust in an adult for one time in my life of independence and admitted some of the abuse I'd suffered, and all of my fragile hopes had come crashing down the moment Professor McGonagall took that step down. I stood there, trembling as I fought the onslaught of emotions that I felt clawing its way out of me in the form of tears. Just before I exploded, I felt Harry take hold of my hand with his other hand and put his now-free hand on my back as he guided me out into the open.

We managed to get over the covered bridge before the momentum got a hold of me and I began to run. I heard Harry call out my name as he followed me, but the sound almost seemed to flow right through me as I ran faster and faster with every moment. I ran until I came to a clearing set on the edge of the Black Lake. Completely winded and exhausted and needing some sort of release, I fell to my knees and began to cry great, heaving sobs that seemed to come from a deep well of hurt inside me.

One part of my mind noticed the sound of Harry's footsteps as he approached me and knelt beside me. He stayed there for a moment before gingerly placing a hand on my shoulder and slowly drawing me close, as if he didn't quite know what he was doing. I let him hold me as I laid my head on his shoulder, soaking his jacket through with my tears.

"You're not alone," he said quietly as he lifted another hand to start stroking my hair as I had his just last night. "I'm right here. I'll always be here, I promise."


	16. Crazy Rollercoaster Life

**Chapter Sixteen:**** Crazy Rollercoaster Life**

Harry and I stayed there for a very long time, mostly because even after I made myself stop crying, Harry wouldn't stop trying to comfort me. He seemed to know that I had more tears in me, but he didn't say a word as he continued to hold me close and stroke my hair. Instead of being creeped out by his not letting me go, I actually felt like I could finally relax as I felt his heartbeat right under my hand.

I tensed up when I heard the sound of hooves coming our way. A haunting, crooning cry was heard just before the trees on the edge of the clearing rustled. I couldn't see what was coming, but I could see where it stepped as it came toward us. Not wanting to seem vulnerable, I went for my wand only to get stopped by Harry.

"It's OK," he said calmly. "It's just the thestrals."

"The what?" I asked, relaxing little by little as I realized Harry wasn't wary.

"Thestrals," Harry said, not quite looking me in the eye. "They won't hurt us."

I blinked a little before peering a little closer at the space where the creature stood.

"What do they look like?" I asked, looking over at Harry as he jumped slightly and stared at me in shock.

"I – um … horses," he stammered. "Black, skeletal winged horses. You … you believe me?"

Now it was my turn to stare in shock.

"Of course!" I said heatedly. "You haven't lied to me so far, so if you say they're there, then they're there!"

Harry blinked and stared at me for a moment before giving me a small, grateful smile. He stood up and offered me a hand to help me stand; I took it gratefully, groaning slightly as my cramped legs stretched.

I jumped when I felt something brush roughly against my injured hand. Harry calmed me in a moment by taking my hand and squeezing gently. I cautiously held out my hand, hoping whatever was touching me wouldn't make it hurt worse.

"One of them looks like he's sniffing your hand," Harry whispered, stepping a bit closer to me. A small snort filled the air. "He doesn't like what he smells there. He just shook his head like he smelled something foul."

"Maybe he can smell the quill's magic there," I whispered, barely breathing as I felt the thestral poking at my wound with his nose. It felt hard and slightly curved, like a beak. After a long moment, I felt that rough thing brush against the possibly infected wound on my hand. I held back a shudder when I realized that it was licking me.

"They seem to like raw meat," Harry said quietly as he watched over my shoulder. "Luna says they're gentle, so they shouldn't bite you."

"Luna?" I asked as I felt a nudge under my fingers, like a dog trying to get you to pet it. I carefully ran my fingers up the nose I could feel, touching skin that was so smooth that it was almost slippery.

"She can see them too," Harry said. "Since she started at Hogwarts. She told me about them just now."

"Did she tell you why only you two can see them?" I asked as I started to scratch the thestral's forehead.

Harry was quiet for a while, but he did answer.

"Because we've seen death, and you … haven't."

I paused for a moment at how lonely Harry sounded, but I squeezed his hand firmly and continued to hold it as I began to run my fingers down the bony neck.

"Cedric?" I asked.

"… Y-Yeah," Harry said, almost sounding like he was choking on the word.

We stood there for a while and let the thestrals enjoy our company, smelling us and licking our wounds before they went off into the Dark Forest. I looked around at where we were and paused when I saw the Black Lake in front of me. I felt anxiety clench my stomach in a knot as I stepped back into Harry, memories clouding my mind with fear.

"Reggie?" Harry asked in concern.

"C-Can … can we go back?" I asked, my voice small and scared. "I … d-don't like water."

"Yeah, sure," Harry said, gently turning me around and guiding me away from the clearing as he had guided me out of the castle.

We walked in silence for a long time before I had shoved away enough of the fear to speak.

"We were at the beach," I said quietly. "Mom, her new husband, and me. I was six. I was playing in a shallow part of the water, near some teenage boys splashing around and being idiots. I was looking around for sand dollars, which sometimes hid under the sand. Next thing I knew, something got hold of my ankle … pulled me underwater … and pulled me into a deeper part. It was one of the boys playing a joke on me, not knowing I couldn't swim very well yet. My feet … couldn't touch the sand … without my head … being under water, so I began to panic. Mom saved me and threatened to get those kids arrested, but her husband just laughed it off, saying the water wasn't all that deep and I was obviously fine, so what was she getting angry for?"

"You could've died!" Harry said angrily. "That's plenty to get angry about!"

I gave him a shaky smile and nodded in thanks before continuing.

"Ever since then … I've been terrified of deep water. I've gotten better, I can take a bath now and go to a shallow pool, but I can't go to a lake or the beach without having a panic attack."

Harry was quiet for a while before saying lightly, "Good thing you weren't Sorted into Slytherin, then. Their common room is under the lake."

I shuddered at the idea of all that water hanging over my head while I slept.

"Ugh! No _thank you!_" I said, making Harry chuckle a little.

"You like our tower better?" he asked with a small grin.

"_Much_ better!" I said, grinning back at him. "I'll take towers over dungeons any day!"

Harry turned and looked over at a tower that seemed to have a major bird problem.

"What's that?" I asked.

"The Owlery," he said. "I need to send a letter to Sirius. You wanna come?"

"Sure!" I chirped, giving a slight shrug.

We walked toward the tower, taking in the surroundings in a surprisingly comfortable silence. The tower stank of bird poop and decaying rodents, but it was much warmer than it was outside. Harry crouched down on a relatively clean portion of the floor and began to use the wall as a writing desk as he scribbled on a blank piece of parchment. I tried not to, but I ended up reading over Harry's shoulder.

_Dear Snuffles,_

_Hope you're okay, the first week back here's been terrible, I'm really glad it's the weekend._

_We've got a new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Umbridge. She's nearly as nice as your mum! I'm writing because that thing I wrote to you about last summer happened again last night when I was doing a detention with Umbridge._

_We've also got a transfer student from America named Reggie Dolan. She's ruddy brilliant and probably likes Umbridge more than I do. I know, Reggie's not a girl's name, but she says she was named for her dad, Regulus, and she was wondering if you knew her mum, Nienna. I've got a picture of her mum here, back from when she moved to America._

_We're all missing our biggest friend, we hope he'll be back soon._

_Please write back quickly!_

_Best,_

_Harry_

I smiled at the compliment Harry gave me and felt a bit of warmth at the sight of him fulfilling the promise he made to me to ask Sirius about Mom. I leaned against the door and watched him interact with his owl until a little feathery ball came down to flutter in front of me. It was my Regulus, the slightly-too-big-headed Northern Saw-whet Owl Dumbledore had given to me. I giggled as I held out my hand for him; he perched on my fingers as I stroked his head gently.

"Sorry, I don't have a letter for you, pal," I said quietly. "I'm glad you're doing okay!"

Regulus chirruped and fluffed up his feathers like he was showing off for me, making me laugh again.

"Oh … hi!"

I turned to see the pretty Asian girl from the train, the one who supported the Tornadoes. She was carrying a letter and a parcel in her hands.

"Hi!" I said, not seeing any reason to not be friendly. "Don't think we've met! I'm Reggie Dolan!"

"Cho Chang," she said breathlessly. "I didn't think anyone would be up here this early … I only remembered five minutes ago, it's my mum's birthday."

I frowned a little at her not remembering her own mother's birthday but figured she probably had a rough first week back as well.

"What'd you get her?" I asked, trying to keep the conversation going a bit longer.

Cho smiled a little.

"A book on magical plants," she said, holding up the parcel. "She's big on gardens, not so much Quidditch."

I chuckled a little but paused when Cho asked what happened to my hand.

I looked at her semi-suspiciously, but I told her. Some of it, anyway.

"Detention."

Cho's face fell.

"That Umbridge woman's foul," she said in a low voice. "Putting you two in detention just because you told the truth about how – how – how he died. Everyone heard about it, it was all over the school. You were really brave standing up to her like that."

I chuckled again, this time more self-deprecatingly than anything else.

"Thanks for the compliment, but it was just … I was angry and let my temper get the best of me," I told her bitterly. "All it got me was a massive target on my back, a week's worth of pain, and a huge let-down when I told McGonagall about it."

Cho looked quite shocked for a moment before hurrying to defend McGonagall.

"I'm sure she's doing all she can …"

"She's a teacher!" I said hotly. "Her main priority should be her students, especially when they're being hurt by someone else! She could very easily go to the Board of Governors and lodge a complaint to get Umbridge fired! She doesn't have to mention Harry's name at all! I know she's all about keeping her head low right now, but when the price of that is her students' safety, she should know to fight back!"

"Everything OK?"

I turned to see Harry looking warily between us. I let out a breath before smiling bitterly at him.

"Yeah, just a little disagreement. Sorry for snapping," I said to Cho, who gave me a shaky smile before heading into the Owlery, smiling more genuinely at Harry before heading in.

The look on Harry's face hit me like a slap to the back of the head. His eyes grew larger, brighter and followed her as she walked into the Owlery, and he had the sappiest grin on his face.

He _liked_ her.

I made some lame excuse about needing to go over homework before letting Regulus fly off and hurrying down the steps, my emotions raging so chaotically that I couldn't make sense of them. At the very least, there was anger, hurt, disappointment, and a HUGE load of confusion.

Harry and I were friends. Really _close_ friends, but friends nevertheless.

I shouldn't be feeling like this after realizing he had a crush on another girl.

Never mind that this girl was totally wrong for him, all sugary-sweet and soft and _not remembering her own mom's birthday!_ I mean, who forgets their mom's birthday?! Who is that stupid?!

By the time I got to my dormitory, I was absolutely fuming about Chang and Harry's stupid crush on her that would obviously never last. I threw myself on my bed and screamed into the pile of pillows at the head of my bed. I screamed and swore and hit and kicked in an effort to get my aggression out.

No such luck.

"Are you alright?"

I turned my head to see Hermione staring at me warily. I sighed heavily and turned over to flop on my back.

"I don't like Cho Chang," I said simply.

Hermione just blinked and said, "Good to know."

What she did next both surprised and touched me. She came over to my bed and sat down at the foot of it, a book in her hands as she silently provided me with the support she felt I needed at this really crazy moment in my rollercoaster of a life. We stayed there until lunch, sometimes quiet and sometimes chatting about nothing.

At one point, I looked over at her and asked, "Are we OK?"

She looked up at me for a moment and smiled.

"Of course. BFF's honor."


	17. Like Our Dads

**Chapter Seventeen:**** Like Our Dads**

Lunch was a rather casual affair. Harry had reconnected with Ron over Quidditch (Ron had become the new Keeper and wanted to practice before practice), while Hermione and I used our time to work on homework. She was a bit miffed that the boys cared more about Quidditch than homework, but after a few debates over McGonagall's Inanimatus Conjurus essay, she seemed to feel a bit better. We worked for about an hour before the boys came back, looking tired and dejected.

"How was practice?" Hermione asked coolly.

"It was –" Harry began

"Completely lousy," Ron moaned hollowly as he sank into the chair next to Hermione. She looked over at him and seemed to melt considerably when she saw how horrible he looked.

"Well, it was only your first one," she said consolingly. "It's bound to take time to –"

"Who said it was me who made it lousy?" Ron snapped.

"You did," I said, glaring at him slightly when he turned to me. "If it was someone else, you would've been angrier. You moping around like a kicked puppy shows that it was you who screwed everything up."

Ron gaped angrily at me for a moment before he growled something about getting started on homework and stomped up to the boys' dormitory, even slamming the door for good measure. I blinked in surprise, feeling a wave of disappointment at his behavior. Harry seemed to have enough grace to look a bit embarrassed by Ron's little tantrum.

"Woooww!" I said slowly. "What is he, five?!"

"Reggie!" Hermione gasped, sounding completely affronted by what I said.

"What?!" I said, gesturing up the stairs. "Just because he did a bad job in practice doesn't give him the right to bite your head off! You weren't there, you had nothing to do with his performance – why should you be the one to get attacked for it?! If he wants to bitch and moan about it like a ginger Malfoy brat, fine! Just don't expect me to sit here and baby him!"

The next couple days were a bit tense. Ron was still mad with Hermione and me while being completely willing to copy off of us, Hermione strongly disapproved of his attitude toward homework and mine toward Ron, I was unwilling to budge on my opinion of Ron, and poor Harry was caught in the middle, playing peacekeeper. I tried to keep things down while he was around to make it easier for him, but Ron and Hermione were still going at it over mistakes in Ron's essays.

"I haven't got time to listen to a sermon, alright, Hermione," Ron growled. "I'm up to my neck in it here –"

He was interrupted by a tapping at the window. A very handsome screech owl was perched on the sill, peering almost haughtily at Ron with a letter in its beak.

"Isn't that Hermes?" Hermione gasped in amazement. "Percy's owl?"

"Percy?" I asked, recognizing the name from Harry's stories about the Weasley family. "Mr. I'd-Rather-Side-With-The-Government-Over-My-Own-Family?! What the hell's he writing for?!"

"Dunno," Ron asked, crossing to the window and retrieving the letter, which was addressed to him. He opened the envelope and sat back down to read. The farther down the parchment his eyes travelled, the angrier he looked. By the end, he looked like he wanted to spit right in Percy's face. He thrust the letter at us and waited as we read it together.

To put it very nicely, I was absolutely disgusted. This twit was pompous, arrogant, and very clearly putting his faith in the wrong people. He actually called Old Toadface, and I quote, "a really delightful woman"! Percy mentioned a disciplinary hearing of Harry's that he'd kind of grazed over in his stories, stating that Harry had gotten off on a mere technicality and that many people Percy had spoken to were convinced of Harry's guilt. He had the nerve to call Harry "unbalanced" and "violent" and told Ron that unless he wanted to be "tarred with the same brush as Potter", he should "sever ties" with Harry.

He also hinted that Dumbledore's regime at Hogwarts was coming to a close and said that there would be something in the paper tomorrow that would make things clearer. While I was kinda happy that Dumbledore was being taken down a few notches, I was worried about who would take his place. If it was anyone like Umbridge, I just might drop out of Hogwarts and go back to Ilvermorny! I'd even hide Harry, Ron, and Hermione in my trunk if they wanted to come with me!

"You want this back?" I asked when we were done.

"Give 'em here," Ron snarled. "He is –" he said jerkily, ripping the letter in half, "the world's –" fourths, "biggest –" eighths, "GIT!" He threw the pieces in the fire, breathing heavily as he watched them burn.

"Come on," he said briskly, "we've got to get this finished some time before dawn."

I glanced questioningly over at Hermione, who nodded. Before Ron could blink, I'd snatched the boys' essays and handed Ron's to Hermione.

"We'll look these over," she said, waving her hand at them. "You two relax for a moment."

"Thanks a million," Harry said weakly, rubbing his bloodshot eyes.

I gave Harry's Astronomy essay a quick run-over and corrected the most obvious mistakes before going through it again to catch the deeper mistakes. It was a fairly good essay, but there were a few things he missed, like remembering Europa was covered in _ice_ instead of mice.

When I turned back to Harry to give him his essay, I was surprised to see him crouched in front of the fire.

"Er – Harry?" I asked uncertainly. "Why are you down there?"

"Because I've just seen Sirius's head in the fire," he replied calmly.

An almost electric surge went through my body, freezing me in place as Hermione questioned what Harry said. Who knew that one sentence could create so much emotion in me? I felt desire to get to know him, hope that he would like me, fear that he wouldn't, and enough shame at my painful past to actually make me take a couple steps away from the group as they huddled around the fire. Bobbing in the flames was a man's face, grinning from behind a long, dark mop of hair. He looked like an overgrown teenager with that mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he grinned up at Harry.

"I was starting to think you'd go to bed before everyone else had disappeared," he said in a cultured, sarcastic voice. "I've been checking every hour!"

"You've been popping into the fire every hour?!" Harry half-laughed, making me smile a little.

"Just for a few seconds to check if the coast was clear yet."

"But what if you'd been seen?!" Hermione asked anxiously.

"Well, I think a girl – first-year by the look of her – might've gotten a glimpse of me earlier, but don't worry!" he added hastily, since Hermione looked like she was about to have a heart attack. "I was gone the moment she looked back at me and I'll bet she just thought I was an oddly-shaped log or something."

"But Sirius, this is taking an awful risk –" she started.

"You sound like Molly," Sirius interrupted nonchalantly. "This was the only way I could come up with of answering Harry's letter without resorting to a code – and codes are breakable."

Ron and Hermione spun to stare at Harry at the moment of a letter.

"You didn't say you'd written to Sirius!" Hermione said accusingly.

"I forgot," Harry said honestly. "Don't look at me like that, Hermione, there was no way anyone would have got secret information out of it, was there, Sirius?"

"No, it was very good," Sirius said with a proud smile on his face. I felt a slight jolt of jealousy in my stomach, combined with a longing for him to look at me like that. "Anyway, we'd better be quick, just in case we're disturbed – where is she?"

"Wha – who?" Ron asked, looking completely confused.

"My _niece_!" Sirius said excitedly. "Reggie! Where is she, Harry?!"

"Well, she's right – Reggie?" Harry had looked back to see where I was and realized how far I was from the fireplace. He stood up and walked over to me, looking a bit worried.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly, not seeming to want his voice to carry to the others.

"N-Nothing, I just –"

"I know that look, Reggie," Harry said gently. "You had that look over by the lake. You're scared. Of what?"

My bottom lip trembled for a moment before I burst out, "Wh-What if he doesn't like me?"

Harry blinked in surprise and looked back at Sirius, who seemed to be feeling a bit impatient, before turning back to me and taking my hand.

"That won't happen," he said confidently. "You're so much like him, it'll be impossible for him to not like you! Promise!"

Trembling inwardly and outwardly, I nodded firmly and stepped confidently forward. I knelt in front of the fireplace and forced myself to look Sirius in the eye. He looked absolutely shocked, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Deciding on a whim to take a leap of faith, I gave him a feral smirk and said, "Hey, Uncle Sirius!"

Sirius was quiet for a while, but he finally gave me a smile that was so full of quiet, nostalgic joy that it almost hurt to look at it.

"You look like him," he said quietly. "Regulus. I mean, you take after your mum with your coloring and nose and eyes, but you've got his cheeks, his jaw, his ears, his mouth … Merlin, you look so much like him!"

I never knew how much I'd wanted to know that until he told me. I sank down onto my butt, feeling an incredible warmth fill my heart.

I looked like him.

_I _looked like him.

I _looked_ like him.

I looked _like_ him.

I looked like _him_!

I jumped slightly when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see Harry smiling at me, seeming to share my joy at learning more about my mysterious father.

"S-So," I said, turning back to the fire, "I really _am_ your niece? For real?"

"Oh, of course!" Sirius said confidently. "What sick-in-the-head mother – other than mine – would name her son 'Regulus'?"

I couldn't help it. Hearing almost the exact same words I'd said to Harry on the Hogwarts Express made me burst into laughter! I had to stuff my face into a pillow from a nearby chair to make sure I didn't disturb anyone in the dormitories. I heard Harry laughing as well behind me, no doubt remembering when I'd said that to him.

"She said that!" Harry chuckled. "On the train, she said almost those exact words!"

"Well, well!" Sirius said with a mischievous grin. "Looks like you've got the Black sense of humor!"

"Well, I obviously didn't get it from Mom!" I said, still chuckling. "I mean, I can't remember the last time she smiled, let alone laughed! No sense of humor at all!"

"I know the feeling," Sirius said sympathetically. "You should've heard my mum going off on me about pranks I pulled when I was your age!"

"Oh, I'll bet she just _loved_ them!" I said with a slightly bitter smirk.

"About as much as house elves love clothes," Sirius said. "Speaking of your mum, how is ol' NiNi? I haven't seen her since I graduated from Hogwarts!"

"NiNi?" I asked. "You mean you _knew_ her?"

"How could I not?" he scoffed. "She met Regulus their first day in Slytherin, they were best friends up 'til their fifth year, when they started dating! Dunno how she hid the fact that she was Muggleborn from my mother! Then again, she was also a feature at the Zabini household, so they probably passed her off as a distant cousin or something."

"Mom … is a _witch_?!" I gasped, feeling like I'd gotten punched in the gut. "But she … she never … and she …"

I slumped back slightly, feeling completely and utterly shocked … and betrayed. All I've gone through, all the pain and fear and humiliation and hatred, so much could have been fixed if Mom had told me she had magic! She could have stopped him, stopped them; she could've protected me!

"Reggie?"

I looked back into the fire and saw Sirius looking at me intently.

"You alright there, princess?"

The protectiveness, gentleness, and care in those four words almost brought me to tears, but I forced them aside and made myself play off my reaction as simple shock.

"Y-Yeah!" I said with a painted smile. "She just … never told me, about her magic or Dad or anything before she came to New York. I only got her to talk about Hogwarts after she decided I needed to transfer here. Guess that's how she knew so much about it."

Sirius looked at me for a moment before nodding and asking, "So what are Umbridge's lessons like? Is she training you all to kill half-breeds?"

"All we do is read her stupid textbook!" Ron said grumpily.

"Well, I'm not surprised," Sirius sighed. "Latest intelligence said Fudge doesn't want you trained in combat."

"Combat?!" Harry repeated incredulously. "What does he think we're doing here, forming some sort of wizard army?"

"That's exactly what he thinks you're doing," Sirius said, "or rather, what he's afraid Dumbledore's doing – forming his own private army, with which he will be able to take on the Ministry of Magic."

I snorted in derision, "Good luck with that! I haven't seen him since the Welcoming Feast, and there's no way I'd join an army just because _he_ asked me to!"

Sirius and the others blinked at me in surprise.

"What?!" I asked. "I'll join a cause, no problem, but if one person wants me to fight for his sake while he's powerful enough to fight for himself, he'll get my finger right in his face!" I lifted my middle finger at the air above our heads to demonstrate, which made Sirius snort with laughter.

"That's my girl!" he said, making me glow with delight.

"D'you think there's going to be anything about Dumbledore in the _Daily Prophet_ tomorrow?" Harry asked. "Only Ron's brother Percy reckons there will be –"

"I don't know," Sirius said bitterly. "I haven't seen anyone from the Order all weekend, they're all busy. It's just been Kreacher and me here …"

"Who's Kreacher?" I asked.

"Family house elf," Sirius said shortly. I took his tone to mean that he didn't like the elf at all.

"When's your next Hogsmeade weekend?" he asked suddenly. "I was thinking, we got away with the dog disguise at the station, so –"

"NO!" Ron and Hermione said together very loudly, making Harry and me jump. I'd almost forgotten they were even there!

"Sirius, didn't you see the _Daily Prophet_?!" Hermione asked.

"Oh that," Sirius said with a grin.

"What happened?!" I asked.

"They think Sirius is in hiding in London," Ron said. "There was an article in the _Prophet_ about it."

"WHAT?!" Harry cried, looking very worried.

"How serious is it?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"They've got the city right," Sirius said placatingly, "but they're always guessing where I am, they haven't really got a clue –"

"Well, we think this time they have," Hermione said worriedly. "While you two were outside on Saturday, Malfoy said something that made us think he knew Sirius was at the station. With the connections his father has with You-Know-Who, he would know about Padfoot! Please, Sirius, don't come up here, whatever you do, if Malfoy recognizes you again –"

"All right, all right, I've got the point," Sirius said, looking very displeased, almost like he was pouting. "Just an idea, thought you might like to get together."

"I would, I just don't want you chucked back into Azkaban!" Harry said.

"I would too!" I said, looking earnestly at Sirius.

He just looked even more displeased, a crease between his sunken gray eyes.

"You're less like your father than I thought," he said coolly to Harry. "The risk would've made it fun for James."

I blinked in surprise before the surprise quickly morphed into a defensive anger that was becoming very familiar to me.

"Well, Harry's not James!" I said hotly. "He may not be a risk-taker like his dad, but at least he's smart enough to not do stupid stunts just because he's bored and lonely! If you don't want people caring whether you're safe and alive, then fine! Be irresponsible, go on a spree, see if we care when you get Kissed for showing your face around town!"

With that, I stood up and stomped up to my dormitory, where I flopped into bed and glared into the shadows until I fell asleep.


	18. Don't You Dare!

**Chapter Eighteen:**** Don't You Dare!**

I woke up early the day after I yelled at Sirius, my gut churning with anxiety and a bit of shame. I knew I probably shouldn't have stomped out like a five-year-old having a temper tantrum, especially since part of the reason I'd gotten mad at Ron on Saturday was because he'd acted in the same way, but hearing Sirius compare Harry to his dead father was completely unfair and kinda cruel. I mean, I get that Sirius and James were best friends and that Harry looks just like James, but they're not the same person! Harry shouldn't have to be constantly compared to the parents he's never met and expected to act just like them!

After getting ready for the day, I went down to the common room and was surprised to see Harry sitting there, staring at the staircase to the girls' dormitory as if waiting for someone. Slightly hoping it was Hermione, I headed toward the entry way, only to stop when Harry called out to me.

"Reggie! C-Can I … er, can we talk?"

I warily glanced over my shoulder at him, more than a little relieved to see that he didn't look angry.

"Sure," I said, forcing myself to stay casual as I turned back and sat down next to Harry on the couch.

We sat in awkward silence for a while before what we wanted to say just burst out.

"Look, I'm sorry I –"

"So, about Sirius –"

We stopped when we realized we were talking at the same time and chuckled awkwardly and sat back again. Harry signaled to me, telling me to go first.

"OK, um," I said, trying to get it out as quickly as possible, "I'm sorry I yelled at Sirius. I mean, he's your godfather and my uncle and I need to show him respect, but him comparing you to your dead dad is not fair and frankly kinda stupid 'cuz you and your dad aren't the same person and you shouldn't be compared to him just because you look like him –"

"Reggie!"

I jumped at Harry's half-laugh as he stopped my rambling, joining him in more awkward laughter. This whole experience was just getting so awkward it was making me sick!

"I actually wanted to apologize for him," Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck. "He's been cooped up in his old house for … dunno, months now, and the last time he was in that place was the day he ran away from it. He hasn't been able to help Dumbledore with anything because he's a wanted man."

"I get all that," I said, now a little wary because Harry seemed to want to defend his godfather even now. "I really do. I'm not saying that I wouldn't be willing to pull crazy stunts after being pent up for who knows how long. That's not what I got angry at him for. I got angry at him because he shouldn't compare you and your dad like that. I'm sure your dad's a great man – 'cuz I know you are – but you two are different people, and you have no real idea of how your dad would react to certain things so you can't copy him!"

"But everyone says I'm just like him!" Harry said.

"No, they say you _look_ just like him," I said, pointing at him to emphasize that I was saying. "If you acted like him, they would mention it more, and not in a Snape kind of way. Just like it's unfair for Snape to compare you to the worst of your dad, it's unfair for Sirius or anyone else to compare you to your dad's best! D'you see what I mean? I seriously wanna know if this makes sense to you!"

Harry seemed a little confused, but he did seem to be trying to understand.

"Er … yeah, I think so," he said hesitantly, "but I … I want to be like my dad!"

"And I'm not saying you shouldn't be!" I said, starting to get a bit frustrated. "Seriously, you have a great dad to look up to, unlike some people I could name. Wanting to be a man he would be proud of is a good thing, but becoming James Potter's clone isn't a healthy expectation for anyone, especially you!"

"So … you're saying I should be _like_ him but not _be_ him, right?"

"Yes, exactly!" I cried, happy he was starting to get the picture. "You're your own person, and you shouldn't have to act like someone else to make others happy!"

"Oh …" Harry said, looking a bit like a deer in headlights. "I don't … then who should I be?"

I blinked and looked at him in surprise and worry.

"You should be Harry," I said, as if it should've been obvious. "The kid who loves Quidditch and Defense Against the Dark Arts, who hates bullies and being called a liar, who sees thestrals and talks to his owl as if she's a person, who gets all goofy at a smile from the pretty girl he likes, who eats treacle tarts by the dozen even though they'll end up adding to his waistline," I added with a playful poke to Harry's stomach, which made him laugh and swat me away good-naturedly. "That's the Harry I've gotten to know over this past week, and I happen to think he's pretty awesome!"

Harry stared at me with a shocked smile on his face, seeming to be surprised I knew him so well. He then turned and stared into the fire with a thoughtful look on his face. I smiled and decided to get comfortable, recognizing that he would be there for a long time. Slipping my shoes off, I curled up on the couch and rested my head on Harry's shoulder. After a while of sitting there together, I felt him hesitantly take my hand; I held his hand there by weaving our fingers together.

We leapt apart when a flash of light and the click of a camera filled the now-companionable silence of the room. We looked over and saw a mischievously grinning Hermione … holding a camera.

"Her-_MI_-one!" I cried, leaping at her to try and grab the camera from her. It wasn't that I was ashamed of the little moments Harry and I had, or that I thought Hermione would use her knowledge to hurt me or him, but … I felt like they were … special, almost sacred, and like they shouldn't be aired like dirty laundry. While tussling with Hermione for the camera, we paused when we heard something amazing – Harry laughing so hard that he was almost falling off the couch. We turned and watched him laugh before starting to laugh ourselves. Soon, a sleepy Ron came down and saw us laughing rather raucously. He stared at us and shook his head, muttering about "bloody morning people" as he trudged back upstairs, which of course made us laugh even harder.

The four of us went down to breakfast with our smiles still on our faces. We knew things would get a bit crazy later, but right now, we were just enjoying each other and laughing at the most random things. The feeling shattered when the headline glared up at us from the front page of the _Daily Prophet_:

**MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM**

**DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED FIRST-EVER "HIGH INQUISITOR"**

"'High Inquisitor'?" Harry asked darkly. "What does _that_ mean?"

"If it means what I think it means," I said, my tone matching him perfectly, "then anyone who doesn't agree with her is in serious trouble."

"Whaddaya mean?" Ron asked.

"Ever heard of the Spanish Inquisition?" I asked. I ignored Hermione's gasp of horror and Harry's piercing look as I waited for Ron's reaction: he eventually shook his head.

"Just think of it this way," I said, "it makes the witch hunts look like games of hide-and-seek. Anyone who's different or disagreed with the Spanish government at that time was sentenced to death. I doubt she'll actually kill us," I added hastily at Ron's shocked look, "but she'll make life hell for us if we openly disagree with her."

We were all quiet for a moment before Ron asked what Umbridge would be able to do as High Inquisitor. Hermione skimmed the article and told us that she would be able to inspect her fellow educators and make sure they were "up to scratch", whatever that meant. Also, Hermione said that we'd ended up with Umbridge because of an "Educational Decree" that gave the Ministry power to appoint teachers to positions at Hogwarts when the Headmaster was unable to. Hermione, in particular, was very upset by the whole mess.

"I can't believe this!" she gasped, her eyes very bright as she breathed much quicker than normal. "It's _outrageous_ …"

"I know it is," Harry growled, glowering at the scars on his right hand.

I looked over at Ron and was surprised to see him grinning.

"What?" I asked, feeling like I was about to punch him.

"Oh, I can't wait to see McGonagall inspected," he said happily. "Umbridge won't know what's hit her!"

I was so surprised that I actually began to laugh right along with him. As betrayed as I felt by McGonagall, I knew that she wasn't going to be Umbridge's new doormat this year; she'd fight Umbridge every step of the way this year.

"Well, come on," Hermione said as she jumped to her feet. "We'd better get going. If she's inspecting Binn's class, we don't want to be late!"

"I dunno, 'Mione," I said, grabbing my own bag. "If he gets let go, maybe we'll get a proper teacher for that class, one that won't put us to sleep every time!"

Hermione just gave me a disapproving glare and a poorly-concealed smile before marching down the hall, the boys and me on her heels.

Umbridge wasn't in History of Magic or Potions, but that was fine. I don't think I could've kept my mouth shut in Potions if Umbridge had been there; the anger and hatred would've just exploded out of me. You see, when Snape gave us back our moonstone essays, Harry and I were given rather bad grades: he'd gotten a D (the second worst grade), and I'd gotten a P (the grade just below passing). I knew our essays weren't the best, but surely Snape had known about our detentions – the detention logs were available for any and all teachers to see! I'd given Snape the bird as he'd turned to give another poor student his essay. Harry and I made sure to work extra hard to produce potions that were at least worth an E (the middle passing grade). When we delivered our pale bluish-green potions to Snape's desk, it was with a feeling of mingled defiance and relief, as well as a cheeky grin from me.

Ancient Runes went well for Hermione and me, especially now that I knew how to handle Professor Babbling's rambling tangents. Defense Against the Dark Arts, on the other hand, was an absolute disaster. Harry and I had gone in there with a promise to make sure we kept our tempers under control, but then Hermione decided to disagree about a topic thirteen chapters ahead of where we were currently at. Umbridge clearly said that Hermione's opinion didn't matter in this class and neither did any other student's opinion matter when it came to the material, and I almost exploded. I actually had to bite my tongue to keep from leaping to my friend's defense, even if what she'd done was completely stupid … unless she was testing Umbridge to see what she would do … which was highly likely for Hermione to do.

But then, Harry's temper exploded as well. Umbridge had said that Professor Quirrell, this year's first Defense teacher, would've passed a Ministry examination, and Harry had snapped that there was "just that minor drawback of him having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head."

After the loudest I've heard in a long time, Umbridge dared to say that another week's detention would do Harry some good.

My anger refused to be leashed at that point. I refused to allow Harry to go through another week of torture alone!

"Well, you know what would be good for _you_, you stone-cold, toad-faced –"

"_Reggie!_"

I jumped and spun to look Harry right in the eye. His emerald green eyes were flaring dangerously, and the hidden message they held was clear for me to see.

_Don't you dare!_

Doing so went against every instinct I had raging through me at that moment, but I finally forced myself to sit down and condemn Harry to face Umbridge alone.


	19. Closure?

**Chapter Nineteen:**** Closure?**

The next morning was absolutely awful, especially for Harry. In addition to dealing with his newly-bleeding hand, he got _publically_ chewed out by Angelina Johnson and Professor McGonagall, neither of whom was at all sympathetic about his situation. Harry and Ron and I were quite angry at her (me mostly due to her not handling Umbridge when she had the chance), but Hermione staunchly refused to say anything bad about the woman. Harry and I didn't talk to Hermione all through Charms, but when we got to Transfiguration, we were subjected to a real treat.

Sitting in the corner, holding a little clipboard and a quill, was Little Miss Pretty-In-Pink herself, waiting to inspect Professor McGonagall's lesson.

"Excellent," Ron whispered excitedly as we all sat down. "Let's see Umbridge get what she deserves!"

As I glanced over at Umbridge, she actually looked up and made eye contact with me. Normally I would have bristled angrily and ended up looking down, but the idea of her getting chewed out by the Old Battleaxe made me give Umbridge a feral grin and a quiet, diabolical chuckle. Everyone sitting around me heard it and began to quietly echo it in anticipation for what was coming. Let me tell you, there were few things as pleasurable as seeing Umbridge turn a few shades paler and shift slightly in her seat, as if she longed to hide in the corner but didn't dare in front of us.

"That will do," we heard Professor McGonagall say, and silence fell immediately. As she passed my desk, I thought I saw her smirk at me, but I wasn't too sure. At any rate, she seemed to be ignoring Professor Umbridge completely for the moment. She settled for crisply barking out orders at us to get the class started.

"Mr. Finnigan, kindly come here and hand back the homework – Miss Brown, please take this box of mice – don't be silly, girl, they won't hurt you – and hand one to each student –"

"_Hem, hem_," Umbridge said from her corner. Professor McGonagall just ignored her and continued talking as everyone got their graded essays and a little furry mouse. I was pleased to see that I'd gotten an A on my essay, and I have to say, my mouse was actually kinda cute, with light brown fur and a small black spot over one ear.

"Right then, everyone, listen closely – Dean Thomas, if you do that to the mouse again, I shall put you in detention – most of you have now successfully Vanished your snails and even those who were left with a certain amount of shell have the gist of the spell. Today we shall be –"

"_Hem, hem_."

"_Yes?_" Professor McGonagall asked as she turned to look at Umbridge, her eyebrows drawn so close together that they formed one severe-looking line as she glared across the room.

"I was just wondering, Professor," Umbridge said sweetly, "whether you received my note telling you the date and time of your inspec –"

"Obviously I received it, or I would have asked you what you are doing in my classroom," Professor McGonagall said, turning her back decisively on Umbridge. I dared to send a gleeful grin at Harry, who seemed just as happy as I was. "As I was saying, today we shall be practicing the altogether more difficult Vanishment of mice. Now, the Vanishing Spell –"

"_Hem, hem_."

"I wonder," Professor McGonagall said with an anger that burned as cold as the Arctic as she turned on Umbridge, "how you expect to gain an idea of my usual teaching methods if you continue to interrupt me? You see, I do not generally permit people to talk when I am talking."

I silently blew air out of pursed lips, thoroughly impressed at Professor McGonagall again. She may have not been able to cow Umbridge in the Entrance Hall, but in her own classroom, the Head of the House of Lions reigned supreme!

Umbridge began scribbling furiously on her parchment, looking as though she got viciously pimp-slapped. She spent the rest of the period scribbling on that parchment, all but banished to the corner like a spoiled toddler writing a punishment essay. The mental picture that gave me almost made me burst with laughter, but I refused to do so in the classroom where people could see me and ask what had made me laugh.

After class was finally done, Harry led us all out into the hallway and I was finally able to let out that bark-like guffaw that had been threatening to break my ribs for the past hour. Harry simply patted my back and waited for me to stop laughing before telling me, "You may be Regulus's kid, but you definitely have Sirius's laugh! You probably gave McGonagall a flashback just now!" We all chuckled as we headed off to lunch, united in our delight at Umbridge being put in her place for the moment.

Our next class, Care of Magical Creatures was really awful around the end. We were learning more about bowtruckles from Professor Grubbly-Plank while Umbridge interrogated other students. They were all answering the questions quite well, and the gang and I were optimistic that things would go well in this class.

Then she asked Goyle if there were any injuries in the class.

"That was me," Malfoy drawled. "I was slashed by a hippogriff."

"A hippogriff?" Umbridge gasped, scribbling frantically.

Unwilling to let Malfoy be the victim in this story when I knew he wasn't, I stepped up and said, "Only because he was too much of a spoiled daddy's boy to think that he needed to listen to what _the teacher_ told him to do!"

I heard Ron and Hermione groan behind me but refused to back down as Umbridge slowly turned towards me.

"Another night's detention, I think, Miss Dolan," she said softly.

Trying to hide my trembling fingers at the memory of her quill, I grinned at her and simply said, "It's a date."

Harry and I were together during detention that night, writing the same lines as before. I inwardly snarled at the idea of Malfoy being superior to me but continued to write "I must respect my superiors" in bloody ink. The cuts on my hand had just barely healed over, so the process of cutting them open again made them hurt even more than they had last week. Poor Harry's, on the other hand (no pun intended), wouldn't stop bleeding after Umbridge bid us good night a half-hour before midnight. Once I saw that, I ripped my Gryffindor scarf out of my bag and began to wrap his hand in it.

"You shouldn't've said that," Harry murmured, no doubt referring to my little comment during Care of Magical Creatures.

I glanced up at him for a moment before looking back down at the sight of his protective, concerned gaze.

"Malfoy doesn't deserve to be the victim in that story," I said quietly. "Poor Buckbeak hasn't seen the sky for who knows how long because of that little … twat!"

Harry chuckled at my obvious attempt to not swear, even though Hermione wasn't anywhere in earshot. Ignoring the stomach swoop that came whenever I heard him laugh, I reached up and placed his hand on the strap of his bag, over his heart.

"Keep that elevated," I said with a smile. "Gravity will keep the blood from flowing too much."

By the time we reached the common room, though, my scarf was stained through with blood and Harry wouldn't stop apologizing for ruining it.

"Look, I told you," I said as we climbed through the passageway behind the Fat Lady, "it's fine! I've cleaned blood out of clothes before and I'll do it again!"

"Bloody hell!"

Harry and I spun around and grinned at the sight of Ron and Hermione waiting up for us, looking very tired but anxious for us.

"Here," Hermione said, tugging us over to the table where two bowls of yellow liquid waited for us. "Soak your hands in that, it's a solution of strained and pickled murtlap tentacles, it should help."

"What did you tell Madam Pomfrey?" I asked, knowing that the process for this particular remedy took hours of constant vigilance and that Hermione hadn't had the time to do that while we were in detention.

"Pet project to Potions," Hermione said uncomfortably. "And besides, with how often Harry ends up in the Hospital Wing, _someone_ has to know how to heal him! What if he gets hurt away from Hogwarts? What will we do then?"

I gave Hermione a grateful smile and unquestioningly stuck my hand into the slimy yellow liquid. I automatically groaned in relief as the murtlap tentacles soothed the angry, red, oozing cuts on my hand. I heard a similar groan from Harry as he mimicked me and was met with the same relief.

"Thanks," he said, scratching Crookshanks's ears after the slightly mangled-looking cat ended up in his lap.

"She's an awful woman," Hermione said in a small voice. "_Awful_. You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in … we've got to do something about her."

I cracked an eye open in interest.

"What did you have in mind?" I asked Hermione.

"Well," she said tentatively, "you know, I was thinking today … I was thinking that – maybe the time's come when we should just – just-do-it-ourselves!" That last bit came out in such a rush that I could tell she was terrified that we would react negatively.

I opened both my eyes and looked at her straight on.

"Teach ourselves Defense?!" I asked.

"Come off it," Ron groaned. "You want us to do extra work? D'you realize Harry and I are behind on homework again and it's only the second week?"

"But this is much more important that homework!" Hermione cried passionately.

The way Harry and Ron goggled at her showed me they didn't expect that to come from her mouth in a million years!

"I didn't think there was anything in the universe more important than homework," Ron said dazedly.

"Don't be silly, of course there is!" Hermione said with a fervor I'd never seen in her before. It was part inspiring and part terrifying; I would really hate to be the person who got in her way when she was like this.

"It's about preparing ourselves," she continued, "like Harry and Reggie said in Umbridge's first lesson, for what's waiting out there in the real world. It's about making sure we really can defend ourselves. If we don't learn anything for a whole year –"

"We can't do much by ourselves," Ron said dejectedly. "I mean, all right, we can go and look up jinxes in the library and try and practice them, I suppose –"

"No, I agree, we've gone past the stage where we can just learn things out of books," Hermione said. "We need a teacher, a proper one, who can show us how to use the spells and correct us if we're going wrong!"

"Well, it can't be one of the other teachers," I said contemplatively, "or some other Average Joe from out there. Where would we hide them when we weren't learning from them? I don't think we can afford to rent someone a room in Hogsmeade and sneak them into the castle when we want lessons!"

"You're right, Reggie," Hermione said, nodding. "That's why I think Harry should teach us Defense Against the Dark Arts."

I blinked in surprise. Harry? I mean, he had managed to use spells he had learned in real life-or-death situations, but would he actually be a good teacher?

"But I'm not a teacher," Harry said, grinning as if this was all a big joke. "I can't –"

"Harry, you're the best in the year at Defense Against the Dark Arts," Hermione said.

"Better than you?" I asked, surprised Miss Top-Of-The-Class Granger could admit someone had beaten her in a subject.

"Yes," she said coolly. "He beat me in third year – the only year we both sat the test and had a teacher who actually knew the subject. And I'm not just talking about test results, look at what he's _done!_"

"How d'you mean?" Harry asked.

"They're talking about your little _adventures_, Harry," I said, rolling my eyes slightly. "Didn't you tell me more than once that if such-and-such hadn't happened, you wouldn't have done half as much as what you did?"

"Y-Yeah!" Harry said, looking absolutely gobsmacked that Ron and Hermione were actually considering what they were. "I mean, it sounds great when they say it like that, but all that stuff was luck – I didn't know what I was doing half the time, I didn't plan any of it, I just did whatever I could think of, and I nearly always had help!"

"So you pretty much just flew by the seat of your pants, used whatever spells you could remember, and prayed that you wouldn't be dead by the end of it," I said. "Am I right?"

"YES!" Harry said, now starting to get angry due to Ron and Hermione's "knowing" smirks. From what Harry had told me, they didn't really know squat about what Harry actually did to complete the tasks he had in the years past.

"Don't sit there grinning like you know better than I do," he said heatedly, "I was there, wasn't I? I know what went on, all right? And I didn't get through any of that because I was brilliant at Defense Against the Dark Arts, I got through it all because – because help came at the right time, or because I guessed right – but I just blundered through it all, I didn't have a clue what I was doing – STOP LAUGHING!"

He burst to his feet, his eyes blazing with anger and pain and something else as he stared at the now-shocked Ron and Hermione.

"_You don't know what it's like_!" he roared. "You – neither of you – you've never had to face him, have you? You think it's just memorizing a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you're in class or something? The whole time you're sure you know there's nothing between you and dying except your own – your own brain or guts or whatever – like you can think straight when you know you're about a second from being murdered, or tortured, or watching you friend die – they've never taught us that in their classes, what it's like to deal with things like that – and you two sit there acting like I'm a clever little boy to be standing here, alive, like Diggory was stupid, like he messed up – you just don't get it, that could just as easily have been me, it would have been if Voldemort hadn't needed me –"

He cut himself off, looking like he was either about to keep yelling until the tower exploded or cry until he melted from his tears. I immediately stood up and wrapped him in my arms, holding him tight as I could as he clung to me almost desperately.

"I get it," I whispered quietly. "I really do get it!"

And I did. I've never had to worry about a friend or loved one being murdered in front of me, but I did often worry about making it through the night back in New York. Oftentimes, I would come home and find myself in the middle of a situation where I would literally be afraid for my own life and have to take measures into my own hands to preserve it. So, in that sense of knowing the feeling of staring Death in the face, I knew what Harry was feeling. Those moments were some of the darkest of my life, and the idea of me using those memories to fight against the darkness of others when all I wanted to do was hide them away and never speak about them again helped me understand why Harry was leery of this opportunity.

Harry and I stayed in the common room for a while after Ron and Hermione went to bed, not talking about anything as we absorbed what had just happened. Again, Harry held my hand and interlocked our fingers as he rested his head on mine, which was resting on his shoulder.

There was a tenseness in the atmosphere around us that led us to believe that the decision Harry would make would end up shaping his future and those of the others who were affected by him. Whatever Harry decided, I needed him to know that I supported him, so I made sure not to say anything for or against the idea. The decision had to be made by Harry and him alone. I couldn't influence him in any way if I wanted this decision to be truly real to him. This would bring him closure, which could only be good for him.

At least, that's what I hoped.


	20. Plots, Worries, and a Bit of Spontaneity

**Chapter Twenty:**** Plots, Worries, and a Bit of Spontaneity**

I was pleasantly surprised with Hermione's reaction … or lack of it, really. She didn't mention her little DIY Defense class for two whole weeks! We were sitting in the library researching Professor Snape's newest essay, and I was honestly hoping Hermione had forgotten about it completely.

No such luck.

"I was wondering," Hermione asked from her spot across from me, "where you'd thought any more about Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry."

"'Course I have," Harry said grumpily to my left, making me chuckle a little. "Can't forget it, can we, with that hag teaching us –"

"I meant the idea Ron and I had," – Ron gave her a look that was part alarmed and part threatening; she just frowned at him – "oh, all right, the idea _I _had, then – about you teaching us."

I couldn't help but glance up at Harry but fortunately, he didn't notice. He seemed to find Asiatic Anti-Venoms insanely interesting at the moment. I decided to go back to my essay as if I hadn't heard anything.

Don't get me wrong, I thought the idea was a good one! We needed to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Harry definitely seemed to know his stuff, from what he's told me already. We would sometimes have debates about the garbage we read in Defense Against the Dark Arts – with me playing Devil's Advocate, of course – and I often found it really hard to come up with points to stop Harry's ideas in their tracks.

The main thing I worried about was what would happen if we got caught. Professor McGonagall's warning about Umbridge scared me more than I will ever admit, and the idea of her torturing any more students the way she has Harry and me makes my skin crawl. I also knew Harry would try to take the majority of the punishment himself if he could help it, which was something I couldn't allow.

"Well," Harry finally said, "yeah, I – I've thought about it a bit."

"And?" Hermione asked eagerly.

"I dunno," he answered, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "You did listen to what I said about a load of it being luck, didn't you?"

"Yes, Harry," Hermione said gently, "but all the same, there's no point pretending you're not good at Defense Against the Dark Arts, because you are. You were the only person last year who could throw off the Imperius Curse completely, you can produce a Patronus, you can do all sorts of things that full-grown wizards can't, Viktor always said you knew how to do stuff even he didn't, and he was in the final year at Durmstrang!"

I couldn't help but notice Ron was looking suspiciously at Hermione.

"You're not still in contact with him, are you?" he asked.

"So what if I am?" Hermione said coolly, albeit with pink cheeks. "I can have a pen friend if I –"

"He didn't only want to be your pen friend," Ron said accusingly.

"And it seems he's not the only one," I smirked, waggling my eyebrows suggestively at Ron, who almost immediately turned scarlet.

"Well, what do you think?" Hermione asked, ignoring her much pinker cheeks. "Will you teach us?"

"Who's 'us'?" I asked, wanting to make sure everything was on the table.

"Well …" Hermione said anxiously, "now don't fly off the handle again, Harry, please … but I really think you ought to teach anyone who wants to learn. I mean, we're talking about defending ourselves against … V-Voldemort – oh, don't be pathetic, Ron – it doesn't seem fair if we don't offer the chance to other people."

She suddenly leaned forward to mutter conspiratorially at us.

"You know the first weekend in October's a Hogsmeade weekend, right? How would it be if we tell anyone who's interested to meet us in the village and we can talk it over?"

"And how would you know who's interested?" I asked. I could see out of the corner of my eye that Harry was looking at me curiously, listening to my question. "Have you talked to people about this already?"

Hermione's face turned almost as pink as Umbridge (which is saying something) as she sheepishly nodded.

"We haven't discussed anything concrete," she said, trying to soothe whatever tempers she was afraid of us showing, "just said certain things around certain people to see who might be interested!"

"And are they people we can trust?" I asked seriously. "They won't go running to Umbridge if we do give them anything concrete, will they?"

"Of course not!" Hermione said, looking almost offended at the idea. "We wouldn't discuss things like this with people we couldn't trust!"

"I know you wouldn't," I said placatingly. "I just don't want to trust the wrong person and end up with everyone else in year-long detention with Umbridge! If we get caught doing this, it'll be Blood Quills for everyone involved at the very least. If we're seriously going to do this, we have to play it smart, sneaky and cunning. I really hate to say this to you guys, but we're going to have to think like Slytherins to pull this off properly."

"And how are we going to do that?" Ron asked, looking hopelessly confused.

"We'll have to keep everything under the table," I said, "like spies. Y'know, code names for our group as a whole, a secret meeting spot, constantly-shifting meeting times, ways to catch sneaks, ways to go underground if we _are_ caught … the whole MI-6 treatment."

"What kind of code names would work, d'you think?" Harry asked.

I paused for a long moment before saying, "Something that sounds innocent but really means something inspiring to us. We can ask for ideas from the others once we've solidified a meeting place; it always helps bring people together as a team when everyone helps pick the name."

Harry nodded, looking much more serious about this idea. He looked up at Hermione and firmly nodded again.

"Let's do it," he said, making Hermione grin excitedly.

He seemed confident, but there was a slight break in his voice and he swallowed visibly afterwards. He was extremely worried about all this and was trying to hide it from the other two. I reached over and grabbed his hand under the table, squeezing it tightly for a moment before bringing my hand back. I could almost feel his confused yet grateful gaze on me and couldn't help but smirk a little as I glanced back at him before going back to my essay.

We were at it for a while longer when Harry asked something that quite frankly surprised me.

"What about Sirius?"

I blinked as I sat up straight, thinking about my uncle. My emotions toward him were so confused that I'd forced myself to not think about him so as to not turn into a teary, blubbering mess. I remembered the beginning of our conversation, how excited he was that he had a niece and how quickly he'd accepted me into his family and how proud he'd been of my sense of humor and defiant attitude, and then I remembered how quickly the whole thing had derailed once he'd offered to come down to Hogsmeade and meet us.

"What if he comes to Hogsmeade anyway, after what we said to him?"

"Well, you can't blame him for wanting to get out and about," Ron said. "I mean, he's been on the run for over two years, hasn't he, and I know that can't have been a laugh, but at least he was free, wasn't he? And now he's just shut up all the time with that lunatic elf."

"The trouble is," Hermione said to Harry while giving Ron a glare, "until V-Voldemort – oh, for heaven's _sake_, Ron – comes out into the open, Sirius is going to have to stay hidden, isn't he? I mean, the stupid Ministry isn't going to realize Sirius is innocent until they accept that Dumbledore's been telling the truth about him all along. And once the fools start catching real Death Eaters again it'll be obvious Sirius isn't one … I mean, he hasn't got the Mark, for one thing."

"But who exactly knows that all the Death Eaters are marked?" I asked. "I mean, if you guys had known about the Mark in the first war, you would've found so many more Death Eaters the first time around instead of the handful you got from waiting for them to screw up and get caught!"

Hermione blinked and looked like she hadn't thought about that.

"I don't reckon he'd be stupid enough to turn up," Ron said to Harry, trying to get that worried look off his face. "Dumbledore'd go mad if he did, and Sirius listens to Dumbledore even if he doesn't like what he hears."

When that didn't seem to work, Hermione gave it a try.

"Listen, Ron and I have been sounding out people who we thought might want to learn some proper Defense Against the Dark Arts, and there are a couple who seem interested. We've told them to meet us in Hogsmeade. Don't worry, Harry. You've got enough on your plate without Sirius, too."

Harry took a deep breath and nodded with a slightly reluctant air. I could tell he was still worried, even though everyone told him not to be. But then again, if Harry didn't worry about Sirius – the last member of his "family" – who would?

I blinked as I got a brilliant idea to keep Sirius in the loop of our lives.

"I've got an idea," I said to Harry, grinning widely as I leaned over conspiratorially. "We create a photo journal for Sirius, about our times here until we can see him again! On the Hogsmeade weekend, we have a blast and take pictures of everything, write little stories on the back of each photo, and send them to him! We could do that during the meetings, between classes, on the weekends – I think he'd really like it!"

Harry blinked a couple times before grinning wider than I'd seen in a long time and grabbing my left hand firmly.

"Brilliant!" he quietly crowed before doing something so spontaneous that even he was surprised:

He gave me a peck on the forehead, right between my eyebrows.

I blinked and stared at him for what felt like hours, my face and neck much warmer than normal and my stomach full of sparks. Harry stared back at me, frozen in a deer-in-the-headlights way, like he was waiting for me to blow up on him. I simply smiled at him, biting the inside of my lip to keep the smile from becoming a full-blown grin.

"Thanks," I said, forcing myself to stay calm. "You, too!" I added, squeezing his hand and continuing to hold on as I continued to work on my Potions essay. The rest of the afternoon was dedicated to ignoring Ron's confused expression, avoiding Hermione's knowing smirk, and secretly enjoying Harry leaning over my shoulder and turning the pages for me instead of working on his own essay.

After a while, my smile finally became the grin I'd hidden all along.


	21. Simple Words, Gestures, and Moments

**Chapter Twenty-One:**** Simple Words, Gestures, and Moments**

The first Saturday of October dawned bright but windy. I dressed for the trip in a black long-sleeve shirt, a fancy khaki-green gilet coat with a faux-fur collar, maroon skinny-jeans, and black ankle boots, putting my hair in a loose bun at the base of my skull with curls framing my face. The meeting we were having today was essentially going to be a business pitch, and I wanted to look as put together as possible. I told Hermione so when she commented on how professional I looked, and she hurried out of the room with that scheming grin I'd come to loathe over the past week.

Ever since Harry kissed me in the library, Hermione has been trying almost too hard to get us together somehow. She would have us work together on essays, hurry to sit next to Ron so we would have to sit next to each other, slip little tidbits about each other into conversations, and all sorts of other diabolical, matchmaker-ish things, and the worst part of it all was that damned smirk she would always wear when we were forced to comply with her plans. And when I was alone with her, she was completely insufferable! She was all but pimping me off to Harry, and it was starting to drive me crazy! I had no idea what Harry thought of the whole thing, apart from how embarrassed he would always look when Hermione would do something. Whether the embarrassment was due to Hermione's behavior or to being around me, I didn't know. I was almost too scared to ask, honestly, though I would _never_ admit that in a million years!

When I got down to the common room after applying my make-up and fighting with my hair for the tenth time, I was surprised to see Harry looking rather done-up as well! He wore a navy-blue button-down shirt, a dark-brown corduroy suit-jacket, nice khaki slacks, and what looked to be newly-shined black loafers. He was nervously running a hand through his hair in an attempt to flatten it when he saw me coming down the stairs.

"Wow," he said with a rather silly-looking smile on his face. "You look great!"

I blushed a little before smirking coyly up at him.

"You don't look so bad yourself, Harry," I said in what I hoped was a flirtatious way.

I reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear just before Harry reached out to take my wrist and roll up my sleeve. I flinched a little at the sudden grab, but I followed his gaze and relaxed when I saw what he was looking at. Outlined in black ink on the inside of my left forearm was a quote from a Shakespearean play. The end of the quote must have been visible on my wrist in the shorter sleeves I was wearing.

"'Though she be but little, she is fierce,'" Harry read out loud before looking up at me questioningly.

"It's Shakespeare," I said, "from 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'. I performed it last year at Ilvermorny and fell in love with that quote. I had an older student put the tat on me this past May; that's my handwriting, he just traced it."

Harry looked at it for a bit longer before smiling a little and tracing the letters gently, almost reverently.

"It's you. I like it."

Even the most flowery and eloquent of praises couldn't have produced the reaction those five words did. The sparks in my stomach fizzled even brighter, my heart warmed like the sun, and my grin almost split my face in two as Harry's simple, sincere declaration flooded through me.

"Th-Thanks," I said, trying to control my blushing as I grinned at him and down at my tattoo. It was one out of two I had, but it was definitely my favorite.

"Do you have any more?" Harry asked.

I blinked and nodded.

"Um, yeah, up here," I said, pointing with my free hand up at the inside of my right elbow. "It's an Algonquin Thunderbird design, to honor my House at Ilvermorny."

"Neat," Harry said, still smiling that smile that told me he was still interested.

"Ready to go?"

We turned to look at Ron, who had just come down the stairs and had no idea what was happening. Harry dropped my arm and I quickly covered my tattoo up before smiling up at him.

"Pretty much," I said before glancing over at Harry, who simply nodded nervously.

The wind had majorly picked up by the time we got on the road, but somehow I didn't really mind. I was out of the castle for the first time in a month, I was with my closest friends, and we were about to have our first taste of true rebellion. For what it was worth, I was actually pretty excited!

That is, until Hermione mentioned where we were going to meet everyone.

We were almost at the village when Hermione said we'd be meeting at this little-known pub called the Hog's Head

"'The Hog's Head'?" I repeated, feeling more than a little confused. "What's wrong with the Three Broomsticks?"

"It's too crowded!" Hermione said. "We'd practically have to shout to be heard, and that makes it more likely for us to be overheard!"

"Actually it wouldn't," I said. "I've done a couple of these before, and trust me, seeing a bunch of students in a place used to seeing bunches of students isn't unusual! No one would even look twice at you or think of eavesdropping! How many students actually go to the Hog's Head?"

"Um … none, really," Hermione admitted sheepishly. "But that's why I thought we should go there. People think it's a bit … you know … _dodgy_!"

I could barely resist the urge to drop my face into my palm and shake my head at Hermione's naiveté, but I couldn't resist the long-suffering sigh that left my lips.

"Hermione," I said bracingly, "I know you want to do this right, but if you go into a dodgy place, you're likely to run into dodgy people. And dodgy people sometimes end up in the pockets of politicians as CIs – confidential informants," I added at Hermione's confused look. "It's entirely likely that Umbridge has one or two people whispering in her ear about anything odd, and those people are much more likely to hang out in places that normal people don't normally hang out at. When the normal people do something abnormal, eyes start watching more, ears start listening closer, and tongues start wagging!"

"How'd you know that?" Ron asked heatedly.

"I watch a lot of cop shows," I said easily. "Helps me get a couple ideas about how to deal with law enforcement if I seriously decide to become an Auror."

"Well, it doesn't matter now," Hermione said sharply. "Everyone's been told the Hog's Head, and I can't go back to everyone without looking suspicious. Now come on, we're going to be late!"

She grabbed Ron's hand and started to all but drag him down the street, leaving Harry behind with me. Shaking my head with another sigh, I began walking down the road after them.

I was surprised when I suddenly felt Harry's hand take mine. I stopped and stared as he gently but firmly tucked my hand in the crook of his elbow and gave me an encouraging smile that I couldn't help but return as we started walking again.

The amazing thing for me was that, while Harry didn't say out loud whether he felt I was right, I still felt like he had said just that. With that one simple gesture, he made me feel included, validated, and championed. At that moment, I felt I could face the entirety of the Wizarding World if Harry stood by my side with my arm laced through his. Of course, the very idea of that made my face burn like the sun so I rested my head on his shoulder to try and hide my more-than-likely red face. I felt Harry tense up a bit, but a few steps later, he was pulling my arm closer and placing his hand over mine.

As we started getting close to the village, I actually began dreading it a little. I was comfortable in this moment with Harry, and I didn't want to have to let go of it … or him, for that matter. Still, there was nothing for it, so I took a deep breath and straightened up tall, raising my chin slightly and glaring at anyone who dared to look at us funny. Thankfully that didn't happen much, but it made me feel better knowing that Harry and I were presenting a united front for everyone to see.

The Hog's Head was pretty much on the outskirts of Hogsmeade and was one of the dirtiest places I'd ever seen! The windows were so covered with grime and sludge that the single public room had to be lit by candles. The floors looked like compacted earth at first, but as Harry and I walked across it, I realized it was stone covered in what seemed to be centuries of accumulated filth.

"I'm burning my boots after this," I muttered, wrinkling my nose as I tried to not think about what the "filth" was comprised of. "Hermione owes me a new pair."

"I'll have her know it's on your Christmas list," Harry smirked, making me smile a little.

I looked around at the occupants of the pub and counted, apart from Ron and Hermione, one mummy impersonator, two dementor impersonators, and one short pudgy … person in a thick black veil. I nudged Harry and nodded over at the veiled person, knowing it could possibly be Umbridge … if she put on some taller heels than she normally did.

"I don't know about this, Hermione," Harry muttered as we came up to her and Ron. "Has it occurred to you Umbridge might be under that?" he asked, nodding at the veil.

Hermione cast an appraising look in the direction Harry was nodding.

"Umbridge is shorter than that woman," she said quietly. "And anyway, even if Umbridge does come in here, there's nothing she can do to stop us. I've double- and triple-checked the rules. We're not out of bounds; I specifically asked Professor Flitwick whether students were allowed here, and he said 'yes, but bring your own glasses'. Also, study and homework groups are definitely allowed; I just don't think it's a good idea if we _parade_ what we're doing."

"No," Ron said dryly, making me grin as I sat down to Harry's right, "especially as it's not exactly a homework group you're planning, is it?"

"Who did you say is supposed to be meeting us?" Harry asked.

"Just a couple people," Hermione said, anxiously checking her watch and the front door. "I told them to be here about now and I'm sure they all know where it is – o look, this might be them now!"

The door opened, letting a thick ray of dusty sunlight into the room before it was obscured by a mass of people. My mouth gaped open as I saw and registered everyone coming in: Neville with Dean and Lavender, Parvati with someone who could've been her twin sister and Cho Chang, Luna, the three girls from the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Ernie Macmillan with one other boy and two girls from Hufflepuff, three Ravenclaw boys, Ginny, a snotty-looking Hufflepuff boy, and finally Fred, George, and their friend Lee Jordan. All in all, twenty-two people showed up. TWENTY-TWO!

"A couple people?" Harry said hoarsely to Hermione, sounding like he'd gotten hit in the gut by a kick-happy donkey. "_A couple people?!_"

"My thoughts, exactly, 'Mione!" I gasped, turning to her. "This is practically a small class! What the –!?"

"The idea seemed quite popular," Hermione said happily as she cut off what was almost certainly a particularly coarse swear word. I hadn't decided what it was going to be yet; it was a bit hard coming up with a word that would properly convey what I was feeling, at the moment.

"What have you been telling people?!" Harry asked her in a low voice. "What are they expecting?!"

"I've told you, they just want to hear what you've got to say," Hermione said soothingly. Harry just glared so ferociously at her that she quickly added, "You don't have to say anything yet; I'll speak to them first."

"Hi, Harry," Chang said with a quiet smile as she walked over with a dusty bottle of what looked like butterbeer in her hands. Harry's mouth seemed to be trying to smile back, but the corners barely twitched. Despite the fact that people were watching, I reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing tightly in an attempt to reassure him. He looked over at me and gave me something that resembled a grimace more than a smile, but it was more than Chang got so I took it with a confident smirk.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chang's smile drop into an icy mask of shock and disapproval as she sat down in a chair where she could stare at Harry easily the entire time. My smirk turned positively wolfish as I contemplated the idea that I was closer to Harry than Chang would ever be. She may be a silly little crush he had now, but I would continue to be his friend, confidant, and ally as long as we both lived.

'Beat that, Chang!' I thought as I selfishly basked in my little victory over that empty-headed, vapid, shallow –

"Um …" Hermione's uncertain voice chimed in as she stood up to Harry's left.

"… Hi."

I couldn't help but snigger just a little at how unprepared Hermione was for this. I think she expected Harry to do the main portion of the speaking, not her.

"So," Hermione continued, "you all know why we're here: we need a teacher. A _proper_ teacher, one who's had real experience defending himself against the Dark Arts."

"Why?" the Hufflepuff snot asked in a rather aggressive voice.

"Why?!" Ron repeated hotly. "Because You-Know-Who's back, you tosspot!"

I grinned at that.

"So _he_ says," the Snot said, nodding at Harry, who was starting to look like he was hiding away inside himself to avoid this whole mess.

"So Dumbledore says," Hermione said, trying to soothe things over.

"So Dumbledore says because _he_ says," the Snot said.

"And who are you to say, 'Puff-Snot?" I asked, casually whipping my wand out and twirling it around in my free hand.

"Zacharias Smith," Puff-Snot sneered. "The point is, where's the proof? If Potter can tell us more about how Cedric got killed …?"

I gaped at him in disgust as I realized why a good portion of these people had come – to force Harry to relive what was likely the worst day of his life to get some closure of their own. I remembered the time Harry told me what had happened in the graveyard; even with me, he hadn't gone into a whole lot of detail, but I could tell what had happened was haunting him.

"Why you little –!" I started to stand up, but Harry beat me to it.

"I'm not going to talk about Cedric," he said, "so if that's why you're here, you might as well clear out now. Come on," he muttered to me, Ron, and Hermione, "let's just go. They're all here 'cuz they think I'm some sort of freak!"

"Is it true you can produce a Patronus charm?"

We all spun around to see Luna looking straight at Harry, her eyes full of nothing but honest curiosity. I couldn't help but smile at her, hoping that this might help things a little.

"Yes," Hermione said stiffly. "I've seen it."

"Blimey, Harry!" Dean gasped. "I didn't know you could do that!"

"And, he killed the basilisk!" Neville said, obviously catching on to what Luna had started. "With the sword in Dumbledore's office!"

"It's true!" Ginny said excitedly.

"Third year, he fought over a hundred Dementors at once!" Ron bragged, making Harry give him a look.

"And last year, he really did fight off You-Know-Who in the flesh!" Hermione said firmly.

"Yeah, but I seem to remember him almost dying then, and the year before that, and the year before that, and the year before _that_ saving the Sorcerer's Stone," I said, getting a grateful look from Harry for my troubles. "At least, that's what he told _me_, anyway," I added, not being able to resist glancing pointedly at Chang, who flushed a blotchy pink in poorly disguised anger.

"What, are you trying to weasel him out of showing any of this stuff?" Puff-Snot asked.

"Oh, _now_ you're interested?!" I asked mockingly.

"Well, we've all turned up to learn from him, and now you're telling us he can't really do any of it!" Puff-Snot said with flushed cheeks.

"That's now what she said," Fred snarled.

"Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?" George said, pulling a rather lethal-looking metal instrument from his shopping bag.

"Or any part of your body, really," Fred said in an almost Hannibal Lecter sort of voice. "We're not fussy where we stick this."

I chuckled lowly as I put my wand away and held up a hand placatingly.

"Boys," I said smoothly, "as flattering as your chivalry is, that's not the point right now. The point is, do we or do we not want to take Defense lessons from Harry? _Not_ Recent History?"

Quite a few people looked away in what I hoped was shame at that comment, but everyone made noises of agreement. Puff-Snot folded his arms and said nothing, eyeing Fred and George too many times to appear casual.

"Right," Hermione said, reaching into her bag to grab a piece of parchment. "I-I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here. But, just so you know, if you sign, you're agreeing to not tell Umbridge – or anybody else – what we're up to."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione quickly signed first, followed by a cheerful Fred and George, but others seemed rather worried about putting their names on the list, especially Ernie Macmillan.

"I – well, we are _prefects_," he said worriedly. "And if this list was found … well, I mean to say … you said yourself, if Umbridge finds out …"

"I seem to remember," I said almost musingly, "a declaration signed by some American Colonial rebels, back in the late seventeen hundreds. They all knew that if and when King George became aware of it, they would all be marked for execution. Not expulsion from school," I added, looking Ernie right in the eye, "_execution_. There was one gentleman – John Hancock, I believe – who signed it with a large and flamboyant signature that he wanted the king to be able to read without putting his spectacles on. They all knew the consequences if they were caught, but the future they were fighting for was more valuable to them than the present times they were living in. And what we're fighting for here and could end up fighting for in a couple years … is that more important than a few good grades, a cushy job at the Ministry, or the illusion of safety?"

After a few, seemingly very long moments of tense silence, Ernie puffed up his chest and marched up to the table, where the list was waiting, and signed it with a flourish before looking straight at me.

"You're alright, Dolan," he said with a small smirk, "for a Yank, that is."

I smirked back at him. "You're not too bad yourself, Brit."

After Ernie's declaration, the group formed a line with no complaints, signing away. Once everyone was done, I stood and signed my full legal name in my best handwriting, making sure it was very large. Hermione took the parchment and carefully slipped it into her bag.

"Once we find a place and time, we'll get back to you," she said, ignoring the feeling that we all had of signing a binding contract.

"Well, time's ticking on," Fred said briskly. "George, Lee, and I have got items of a sensitive nature to purchase, we'll be seeing you all later."

Most of the others left the pub in twos or threes after that, leaving Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I to plan.

"Alright," Harry said once Chang reluctantly closed the door behind her. "First, we need to find a place to practice where Umbridge won't find out."

"What about the shack I saw at the end of the road there?" I suggested, pointing in the right direction.

"The Shrieking Shack? It's too small," Harry said.

"The Forbidden Forest?" Hermione asked.

"Not bloody likely!" Ron gasped, giving her a stern look.

"What do we do if Umbridge finds out?" I asked seriously.

"Who cares?!" Hermione snapped, grinning a mile wide as her eyes sparkled with exhilaration. "I mean, it's sort of exciting, isn't it, breaking the rules?"

"Who are you, and what have you done with Hermione Granger?" Ron asked only semi-seriously.

"Anyway, we know one positive thing that happened about today!" she said, grinning that mischievous grin I'd seen many times before.

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"… Cho couldn't take her eyes off you, could she?"

I couldn't ignore the feeling of being punched in the gut as Hermione peered slyly at Harry, who blushed a little at her look.

"Right," he said, quickly moving on. "Over the next few days, we should each come up with a couple of possibilities of places we can practice. We've got to make sure, wherever it is, there's no chance she can find us!"

We all nodded before standing up and walking out into the cold autumn air outside the Hog's Head.

Harry surprised me by taking my hand and dragging me down the path towards the shack I'd noticed before.

"Where are we going, Harry?" I asked, chuckling slightly as we came upon the shack itself.

"This," Harry said, gesturing toward the dilapidated house with a grin, "is the Shrieking Shack! It's supposed to be the most haunted building in Britain, but it's really where my dad and his three best friends became the Marauders! You remember me telling you about Professor Lupin being a werewolf, right?"

At my nod, he continued, telling me about how his dad, Uncle Sirius, and Wormtail would sneak here during the full moon to keep Professor Lupin company during his transformations. The story he told me kept me enraptured, so much so that I didn't notice the two Gryffindors sneaking up to us with handfuls of soggy fallen leaves.

Harry and I yelped when said soggy leaves were shoved down the back of our tops, covering our spines with something unnamed and undoubtedly slimy. We scrambled for a moment to get it all out and found Ron and Hermione laughing uproariously at our antics. I glanced over at Harry, who grinned at me as he scooped up more leaves. Getting the picture, I picked up some leaves and, on a cue from Harry, flung them in Hermione's laughing face.

The next half hour was dedicated to a ferocious leaf fight, filling the air with shrieks and groans and, most importantly, laughter. By the time we were done, we had all collapsed in the leaves, exhausted but full of the warm and fuzzy feelings that only the deepest companionships can bring.

Recognizing a Polaroid moment, I charmed the camera I'd stuffed in my pocket to fly in the air and take pictures of us smiling and talking to each other: Ron and Hermione leaning against each other's shoulders, Harry leaning back on his elbows between the two of them, and me with my head in Harry's lap. We may have been too-serious rebels a half hour before, but now, we were taking a simple moment to just be the crazy fifteen- and sixteen-year-olds we were.


	22. The Easiest and the Hardest Thing

**Chapter Twenty-Two:**** The Easiest and the Hardest Thing**

After our impromptu leaf fight, Ron and Hermione said they needed to head back to the castle for something. I wasn't sure what, but I saw the little look that passed between them and knew that they were giving me and Harry some time alone together. I gave them a small, knowing wink as they walked away, not minding them leaving in the slightest. Harry seemed a tad confused and annoyed by their behavior, though, poor thing!

"Oh, come on, Harry!" I said, putting on a fake pout. "Is it really _that_ awful to be alone with me?"

To my surprise, he blushed bright red and tried to splutter out a rushed denial that only made me laugh. A quick peck on the cheek was enough to make him stop.

"Relax, Harry," I chuckled. "I was just kidding! Now, come on, show me around! Tell me everything about this place!" I grabbed his hand and began pulling him up the path, grinning excitedly as Harry chuckled behind me.

We spent the rest of the afternoon going into every shop and exploring every inch of it. First he took me to the obvious choices – the Three Broomsticks (where I got a non-alcoholic version of butterbeer and loved it), Zonko's Joke Shop (where we laughed our heads off trying out new products), and Honeydukes Sweet Shop (where I got one block of every flavor of fudge they had available as an additional cheer-up gift for Sirius). Then he showed me the more obscure shops like Spintwitches (a sporting goods store where I bought a Gryffindor Quidditch jersey, much to Harry's delight), Tomes and Scrolls (a book shop where I found a written history of the Potter family – nifty little Christmas present, don't you think?), and Dominic Maestro's (a music store that just so happened to have a karaoke station … what else can I say?).

The whole time, my trusty charmed camera was taking pictures for us to send to Sirius. We laughed and talked and played and ran and danced and skipped and, all in all, had the best day ever! I honestly couldn't remember the last time I had such a great time with just one person; most of my "best days ever" involved larger groups of people that, more often than not, gave me a headache from the sheer sensory overload.

Finally, on the walk back with our purchases in hand, we fell into an almost introspective silence, glancing over at each other and always answering with shy smiles.

"… Reggie?" Harry asked me when we were about a quarter of the way back to Hogwarts.

"Yeah?" I replied.

"Why don't you ever write home?" he asked, making me pause to look at his concerned and honestly curious face. "We've been at school for more than a month and you haven't gotten anything in the Owl Post. No packages of things you forgot, no letters asking how you are, not even a postcard! Why is that?"

I bit my lip anxiously and looked away, knowing in the back of my mind that I should have expected this at some point. Harry had thrown a lot of his pain-filled past in my lap about two weeks after we'd met, and I had barely said anything about my own past to him. In all fairness, he should know as much about me as I knew about him, but I was terrified of telling him! What if he walked away? What if he decided I wasn't worth his friendship?

I took a deep breath and looked back at Harry, who was looking even more concerned.

"It's not a pretty story," I said quietly. "It's dark and it's scary and you'll probably not want to deal with me anymore –"

"Of course I would!" Harry said in a quiet but passionate voice, surprising me. He walked over to me and placed his hand on my shoulder, looking straight into my hazel eyes. "I want to know you, Reg, all of you!"

I couldn't help blushing at that declaration, but all it ended up doing was make the wormy feeling in my stomach become snakes, writhing and ready to strike the moment things went bad.

"… OK," I said softly, turning to slowly walk up the path toward Hogwarts. I started a couple times, but I would tear up before I could get anything out. Harry wouldn't say anything; he would just reach out and hold my hand, waiting for me to calm down.

"… Mom's husband can't stand me," I said quietly. "I think it's mostly because I was proof Mom had sex with someone else. He's controlling, possessive, manipulative … just an all-around bas – um, monster. The fact that I'm … not normal either makes it worse. If I was just some rebellious, snotty teen, he would probably just … I dunno, shove me around or lock me out or something. With my magic in play … he has to … go harder than normal on me."

"… Does he hit you?" Harry asked, his face hard and his eyes steely.

I felt my bottom lip tremble a little as I tried to not think about it.

"… Y-Yeah," I said. "I was always in some fight or another back then, so it … it was easy to explain away my bruises and cuts. Last summer, though … it got so bad that I tried to stay away from the apartment as much as I could. I … I-I spent all of August on the streets, it got so bad. Last time I saw him … he tried taking a steak knife to me."

I knelt and rolled up the right leg of my pants, revealing a new ropy scar that stretched from the inside of my knee to the outside of my ankle. With all the long socks and pants I'd been wearing for the past couple weeks, not even Hermione had noticed it. I stood up and extended my leg for Harry to see; he looked absolutely horrified.

"I knew someone who was a field medic in Vietnam," I said quietly, looking down at my scar, remembering the bone-chilling terror I'd felt as I'd stumbled through the streets to find Old Carter, a homeless man with major PTSD problems that kept him from holding a job. "He sewed me up and let me stay with him for a bit while I healed. After a week, he wanted me to go back. I refused at first, but after a couple days of nagging, I realized he wasn't going to let it go. So … I lied and said I was going to but I really just went to another friend … one who needed some help … selling some stuff. He let me keep half of what I made as long as I stayed clean, which I did.

"That's how Mom found me," I continued, staring at my scar like my story was written on it. "Turns out her husband was taking what I was selling. After talking with me about it, she told me she'd talked to Professor Dumbledore and gotten me transferred to Hogwarts. I was pretty pissed about it. I mean, she hadn't ever tried to keep me safe, and now she was here trying to send me away like I was the problem! She never even asked me if I wanted to be transferred. She just … did it. I tried finding out ways to … sneak away to Ilvermorny and just … never go back to Manhattan, but Ilvermorny wouldn't let me back without Mom's permission. So … I've decided to stay here and just … start over. I won't go back over Christmas or the summer. I won't write to her or call her or anything. I'm just … I'm just done!"

I knelt and rolled my pant leg down as I tried to wipe my tears away as sneakily as I could. I was surprised when I looked up and found myself looking straight into Harry's eyes. For a moment, I worried about what I would find there – anger, disgust, rejection? – but what I actually saw made me start crying anew. His beautiful green eyes were full of warmth, acceptance, and protectiveness that blended into a new emotion that I was too scared to name at the moment.

Next thing I knew, I was in his arms and he was whispering something in my ear.

"He won't touch you ever again," he said in that same quiet, passionate voice from before. "I'll help you find somewhere to stay. You'll be fine, you'll see."

With that, I felt … everything I've ever wanted to feel with someone special. I felt safe, I felt accepted, I felt believed in, I felt … like I was the most precious thing in his world.

Without another word, I wrapped my fingers in his coat and clung so tightly that a part of me worried the fabric would rip. I buried my face in the crook of his neck and let him hide me from the rest of the world for a moment as I let myself cry.

It was at once the hardest and the easiest thing I've ever done – letting my walls drop and letting Harry be my strength for a moment. I've never done that with anyone so actually doing it was scary as hell, but knowing that it was only Harry watching was what convinced me to do it. He would never judge me or make me feel smaller or weaker because of it; he would hold me up and let me hide in him and let me know it was OK, and he would never, ever, EVER break my trust in him.

In that moment, I knew I could trust him with anything and everything. He would hold me when I cried, tell me when I was being an idiot, and do everything he could to make me happy.

I didn't realize it at the time, but as I looked back years later, I knew that on that cold October day, the moment he whispered those encouraging words in my ear, I fell in love with Harry James Potter.


	23. Our Bubbles Are Popped

**Chapter Twenty-Three:**** Our Bubbles Are Popped**

The rest of the weekend passed in a sort of happy haze. I couldn't seem to stop smiling, especially when Harry was nearby! We spent Sunday catching up on our homework, which wasn't much fun but since the sun seemed to insist on shining, we were outside and in the shade of a large beech tree instead of inside and hunched over the desks in the common room. I was a little nervous being within sight of the lake, but Harry quietly insisted on putting himself between me and the water. Seeing that he was watching my back without broadcasting my fears to the others made fairies start fluttering in my stomach and my heart turn into the sun and my smile widen to an almost goofy grin.

A couple hours before dinner, Harry and I started working on our photo journal for Sirius. We spent an hour reliving our … I guess "unofficial date" would be the proper term … and laughing at all of the goofy stuff we did. I don't think I've ever heard Harry laugh so loudly before, and knowing that I made that happen filled me with a satisfaction so immense it was almost smugness. The journal and the fudge package and the letter we wrote to Sirius ended up being so big that we had to have three separate owls carry it all: Hedwig carried the journal, a school owl carried the fudge, and Regulus carried the letter. The excitement and satisfaction we were feeling lasted all night long, attracting stares from everyone who was by now used to seeing Harry all gloomy.

The next morning, however, something was waiting for us on the notice board. That something popped my and Harry's good moods like a pin to a helium balloon. It was a large sign that had a message printed in large black letters with a very official-looking seal and a curly signature at the bottom.

\- BY ORDER OF -

**THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS**

All Student Organizations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs are henceforth disbanded.

An Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students.

Permission to re-form may be sought from the High Inquisitor (Professor Umbridge).

No Student Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor.

Any Student found to have formed, or to belong to, an Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled.

_The above is in accordance with_

_Educational Decree Number Twenty-four._

At first, after Harry and Ron showed me and Hermione the notice, I felt like I'd been socked in the stomach by a sledgehammer. I knew right away that Umbridge had somehow found out about our little meeting in the Hog's Head and felt absolutely furious at Hermione for trying too hard to keep it all hush-hush.

Then, like lightning striking my brain, my eyes were drawn to the definition of an organization, society, team, group, or club: "a regular meeting of three or more students".

"A regular meeting."

REGULAR.

Holy crap …

"I'VE GOT IT!"

I spun around to see the trio staring at me like I'd lost my mind, but I was so intent of sharing this that I didn't really care at the moment.

"She left a loophole in the definition," I said.

"Where?!" Hermione asked, looking at me intently.

I pulled her up to the notice again and pointed to the phrase, reading it out loud.

"'An Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club is hereby defined as a _regular meeting_ of three or more students.' _Regular meeting!_" I said excitedly. "We just have to make sure our meetings are irregular, never on the same day of the week or time of day."

"But that's just a technicality!" Hermione said exasperatedly.

"Didn't Harry get off on a technicality?" I asked, nodding significantly over at Harry, who was rereading the phrase I'd pointed out along with Ron.

"Well, yes but …"

"Look, it's not solid," I said firmly, "but it's the best loophole we've got. We can still do this. We just need to find a place that's harder for Umbridge to get to."

Hermione nodded before pulling the boys away from the notice board.

"Just so everyone knows," she said grimly, "I put a jinx on that piece of parchment we all signed. If anyone's run off and told Umbridge, we'll know exactly who they are."

"How?" I asked, grinning at Hermione's ingenuity.

"Let's just say it'll make Eloise Midgen's acne look like a couple of cute freckles."

I flinched, remembering the sweet but terribly spotty-looking Hufflepuff fifth year student. Her acne was really horrible, and it made it almost impossible for her to get boys to look twice at her. She'd helped me once in Herbology, and I actually liked her. She reminded me of a female Neville, what with her shyness and inability to see past her faults to her good qualities.

We went down to breakfast and saw that no one in our group was pimply, which meant someone else in the Hog's Head had told on us. And to make matters worse, various non-Gryffindor members of our group kept trying to come over to our table, making a bit of a scene as we tried to wave them away and ended up confusing them. Thankfully, Ginny had connections in Ravenclaw through her boyfriend, Michael Corner, and Neville was friends with a couple of the Hufflepuffs, so that whole mess was fixed for the moment.

Things got even worse when Angelina came over to tell Harry and Ron that Quidditch had been included in the decree, which horrified the pair of them. Poor Angelina was on the verge of tears as she begged Harry to keep his temper in class, and he agreed right away without putting up even the slightest bit of a fight.

I assumed History of Magic would be as boring as it normally was, but I was absolutely horrified when Hedwig and Regulus showed up. Not because I didn't want to see them, but because of the state they were in when Harry and I fetched them from the classroom's windowsill. The feathers on poor Hedwig's left wing were bent the wrong way and the wing itself was being held at an odd angle. My Regulus, on the other hand, looked horribly dazed, like he'd gotten a concussion or something, and what seemed to be half of his tail feathers were either ripped out or broken off.

"PROFESSOR BINNS!" I called loudly, making everyone in the class jump. "Harry and I aren't feeling well." I didn't even bother acting, knowing Binns wouldn't notice either way.

"Not feeling well?" he repeated hazily.

"Not well at all," Harry said, holding Hedwig behind his back as he stood up beside me. "So, I think we'll need to go to the hospital wing."

"Yes," Binns said, looking hopelessly confused. "Well, off you go then, Perkins … you as well, Doyle …"

"Thank you, sir," I said as Harry and I hurried out of the room. Harry put Hedwig on his shoulder as we hurried down the hall, while I cupped Regulus in my hands since he was no longer able to stand on his own two feet. I felt a lurch of helpless unease in my stomach but swallowed it down as I followed Harry, trusting him completely. He looked out the window for a moment before marching down a different hall with purpose. He knew where he was going and I decided to trust him with that.

A few minutes later, he glanced behind him at me as I followed him down a flight of stairs.

"Aren't you wondering where we're going?" he asked.

I swallowed before replying firmly, "We're both trying to get help for our owls. I don't know where to get that help, but you do. I'm trusting that you'll find that help."

He blinked hard, like he wasn't expecting that, but he didn't break stride as he hurried up to a door flanked by two gargoyles.

"You should be in class, sunny Jim," one said to Harry.

"This is urgent," Harry said curtly.

"Ooooh, _urgent_, is it?" the other said mockingly. "Well, that's put _us_ in our place, hasn't it?"

"Oh, piss off," I scoffed, using a rather nasty phrase I'd learned from Seamus the last time we'd had words. I marched past Harry and kicked the door hard a few times, since my hands were currently full of injured owl. Footsteps were heard moments before I found myself face-to-face with McGonagall.

"You haven't been given another detention!" she almost shrieked.

I gave her a half-hearted snort.

"From Professor Binns?" I asked. "Not likely. No, we need help for our owls. I think they were attacked while delivering our mail."

"Attacked owls, did you say?"

Professor Grubbly-Plank appeared at McGonagall's shoulder, smoking a pipe and holding a copy of the _Daily Prophet_.

"Yes," Harry said, carefully taking Hedwig off his shoulder. "They turned up after the other post owls. Her wing's all funny, look –"

"And he looks like he got half his tail feathers yanked out and a good whack on the head!" I said, stepping closer to show her Regulus.

"Definitely looks like something attacked them," she said, her pipe waggling in between her teeth as she spoke. "Can't think what would have done it, though … Thestrals will sometimes go for birds, of course, but Hagrid's got the Hogwarts thestrals well-trained not to touch owls …"

"Do you know how far these owls have traveled?" McGonagall asked sharply.

"London and back," I said curtly. "Both of them."

McGonagall looked a little confused, but she took it in stride as Professor Grubbly-Plank set Hedwig on her shoulder and carefully took Regulus from me. I tried to keep it together, but a small whimper came out as the tiny owl left my hands. I'd only had that owl for a month, but he was still _mine_ and something had harmed him. I was anxious and worried and angry all at once, and the emotions were aching to be let out.

"I should be able to sort them out if you two leave them with me," Professor Grubbly-Plank said briskly as the bell rang for break. "They shouldn't be flying long distance for a few days, in any case."

"Th-They'll be OK, though, right?" I asked worriedly as I looked at my pathetic little owl.

Professor Grubbly-Plank's softened as she looked down at Regulus. She looked back up at me and nodded firmly.

"They'll be fine, Miss Dolan," she said with a voice just as firm as her nod. "You'll be seeing them by week's end."

"Thank you!" I gasped as she started to walk away.

"Just a moment, Wilhelmina!" McGonagall called. "Their letters!"

"Oh yeah!" Harry said, darting forward to collect both of our letters. He handed mine to me with a significant look and a discreet hand-squeeze, to which I responded with a nod as we turned to go.

"Potter! Dolan!"

"Yes, Professor?" Harry asked as we turned back to look at McGonagall.

She looked up and down the corridors at the approaching students before stepping up to us.

"Bear in mind that channels of communication in and out of Hogwarts may be watched, won't you?" she said quietly.

"Is that even legal? Reading someone else's mail?" I asked. "I mean, it isn't in the US, but is it here?"

McGonagall gave me a long look before reluctantly saying, "No, no it is not." She turned away and left me and Harry in the hall with our letters and our jangled minds. I ignored the students around me as I opened the small letter and read the words written there.

Today, same time, same place.

P.S. – Thanks for the fudge.

P.P.S. – Great photos!

I smiled at the postscripts but jumped when I heard Hermione ask if the owls were OK. I hadn't even heard her coming down the hallway. Harry and I told her and Ron what had happened, but they didn't seem rather surprised. As we went down to Potions, we discussed the possibility that Sirius's letters had been intercepted and read before being resealed and sent off with Hedwig. I had a feeling that it was extremely likely, and that knowledge just made me _SO_ angry!

Whoever pushed my buttons next, they were getting a serious beat-down, and I didn't care if I got detention or not.


	24. On Our Own

**Chapter Twenty-four:**** On Our Own**

With every step we took toward Potions, my temper flared hotter and hotter. I think the others knew I was about to explode because they started walking around me in formation: Ron behind me to keep other students from sneaking up on me, Hermione on my left waving away approaching students, and Harry on my right with his hand brushing mine to keep me in control. As touching as that all was, I knew without a doubt that I would be blowing up on someone soon and nothing the others did would be able to stop me. I honestly didn't think even musical therapy would help!

At the bottom of the stairs to the dungeons, I heard the voice of my next victim: snide, condescending, and absolutely disgusting in how conceited it was. Finally, I saw the long, pointed, and pale face the voice belonged to. Draco Malfoy was standing just outside Snape's classroom door, waving a sealed piece of parchment and speaking loud enough for the entire castle to hear him.

"Yeah, Umbridge gave the Slytherin Quidditch team permission to continue playing straight away, I went to ask her first thing this morning. Well, it was pretty much automatic, I mean, she knows my father really well, he's always popping in and out of the Ministry … It'll be interesting to see whether Gryffindor are allowed to keep playing, won't it?"

"Like anything will keep us from playing!" I snarled. "It doesn't matter what Daddy's little toad bitch thinks! Our team is still leagues better than yours!"

I heard the Gryffindor boys rumbling in agreement behind me as I glared straight at Malfoy, who just smirked as if he had no idea what he was unleashing.

"Really, Dolan?" he sneered. "The Gryffindor team is full of nothing but pathetic hopeless cases! They have no influence at the Ministry! They've been looking for an excuse to sack Arthur Weasley for years! And as for Potter, my father says it's a matter of time before the Ministry has him carted off to St. Mungo's. Apparently they've got a special ward for people whose brains have been addled by magic!"

Much to his surprise, I let out a harsh bark of laughter.

"Your family will fit in there just fine!" I barked, grinning wildly. "Isn't your aunt Bellatrix Lestrange, the craziest hag-whore in England? She's infamous over in America, the Mistress of the Cruciatus Curse! And she's your mom's big sister! You're related _by blood!_ What's to say you won't end up there at some point, you inbred little _freak_?!"

What happened next was a bit of a blur. I know Malfoy shot some hex or another at me and Harry whipped out his wand to shield me, but somehow Neville was halfway across the hallway before we could realize it, heading straight for Malfoy with a murderous glint in his eyes.

"Neville, _no!_" Harry cried, reaching out to grab the back of Neville's robes with both hands. Neville struggled frantically, waving his fists wildly in an attempt to get to Malfoy, who looked as shocked as most of us felt. Shy, sensitive Neville Longbottom did NOT try to pummel people to death, no matter how angry he was. Whatever Malfoy or I had said, a nerve had been hit _very _hard.

"Help me!" Harry grunted, managing to get an arm around Neville's neck but needing more help to get Neville back to the group. Ron and I leaped forward and each grabbed one of his arms to pull on. Neville was almost choking under the combined pressure of Harry's arm and his desire to turn Malfoy into a pile of mush. He was trying to say something, but only a few recognizable words made it past his throat.

"Not … funny … don't … Mungo's … _show … him_ …"

"Later, Neville!" I said, trying to look him in the eyes. "I promise! Later!"

He looked at me closely and looked like he was about to calm down, but Snape came out before the transformation could be completed.

"Fighting, Potter, Weasley, Dolan, Longbottom?" he sneered. "Ten points from Gryffindor. Release Longbottom, or it will be detention. Inside, all of you."

As we went inside, Neville looked at me, his glare surprisingly steely, and I nodded with a similar look on my face. He looked surprised at my response, and I just said,

"You and me. We'll get him."

The steely look returned, along with a small smile that made Neville look suddenly very scary. I ignored the shiver running down my spine in the knowledge that Malfoy would be lucky to survive Neville when he was like this.

I couldn't help looking at Malfoy over Neville's shoulder and giving him my most feral grin. To my delight, he looked like he was about to wet himself as he squirmed in a rather pathetic attempt to put more distance between us.

"You will notice," Snape sneered, his voice slightly more clipped than usual, "that we have a guest with us today."

He gestured toward a dimly-lit corner, where Umbridge was sitting with her clipboard resting on her knee. Interesting … I actually was having a hard time deciding who I would want to win between the two.

"Is it too much to ask that they both kill each other?" I whispered to Neville as we took our seats.

He looked quite shocked but pleased, like he'd been thinking the very same thing but had been too nervous or polite to say it.

"We are continuing with our Strengthening Solutions today," Snape said briskly. "You will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson. If correctly made, they should have matured well over the weekend. Instructions are on the board. Carry on."

I carefully wrote down the instructions and took them with me as I went to the cupboard for the ingredients. The first half-hour of the lesson was spent in relative silence as Neville and I worked together. While I did the stirring and adding on both of our Solutions, I had him chop and grind both of our ingredients to help him release some of his angry energy, which seemed to work a little. Neville's once-wild rage seemed to settle into a resolve as sharp and strong as a well-made knife.

I was so focused that I was actually surprised when I heard Umbridge's sickly-sweet voice speak from just down the aisle.

"Well, the class seems fairly advanced for their level. Though, I would question whether it was advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus."

Every inch of Snape was as taut as a coiled spring as he slowly straightened to his full height, not deigning to look at Umbridge at all. I could see why Snape wouldn't like that idea; _he_ was the Potions Master in this castle, and he seemed to _love_ being in control of everything Potion-related here. Having that control taken away must seriously grate on his already tense nerves.

"Now," I heard Umbridge continue as I made myself pay attention to my potions, "how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?"

"Fourteen years," Snape said, his voice tight and expressionless.

"You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, is that correct?"

"Yesss," Snape hissed quietly.

"… But you were unsuccessful?" Umbridge asked. I dared to glance up at her and quickly bit down a chuckle at the sight of her childish pout and Snape's carefully-veiled look of aggravated exasperation.

"… _Ob_-viouslyyy …" Snape said with just the slightest hint of "well _duh!_", carefully drawing out every syllable as if Umbridge were forcing each letter out of his mouth.

"And you have applied regularly for the Defense Against the Dark Arts pose since you first joined the school, I believe?"

" … Yyesss," Snape said, his voice now cold with fury. I lowered my head again and began to focus on the potions, deciding losing a grade wasn't worth eavesdropping on a not-really-fascinating conversation despite my slight sense of rooting for Snape just to spite Umbridge.

"Dolan!"

I jumped when I heard Snape's voice crack like a whip in my direction.

"Y-Yes, sir?!" I asked, inwardly grimacing at how pathetic I sounded.

"Last I checked, students were expected to produce only _one_ Strengthening Solution," he sneered as he loomed over me. "And yet, you are currently working on two. Trying to show-off like all Americans, are you?"

"… No, sir," I said quietly, forcing myself to keep my temper under control as I continued to add ingredients and count stirs. Detention with Snape wasn't something one took lightly, apparently. "I decided to put Neville in charge of the ingredients, as he understands plants better than I do with his talent for Herbology. That left me in charge of the actual potions, which I do happen to be good at. You know, last _I _checked, there was no in-class rule against students working together on potions. Did I miss that lesson, or is it one of the many unwritten rules you seem to know?"

Snape blinked slowly before tensing up more than he had with Umbridge.

"Another ten points from Gryffindor for your cheek, Dolan," he sneered maliciously. "Get to work on _your own_ potion before I take ten more away and give you both detention!"

I gripped my stirring utensils tightly before releasing one of them as Neville carefully stood beside me to take it. I forced myself to keep breathing slowly and deeply, actually biting my tongue behind my tightly-closed lips to stop any snappy retorts I had. Despite Snape's unfairness, Neville and I each produced a potion that a fair teacher would have given at least an E, though Snape probably would have given it an A at best for "cheating".

I spent lunch viciously slicing a steak to pieces, pretending it was some awful combination of Umbridge and Snape. I couldn't believe I'd almost started rooting for Snape during his examination! Ancient Runes was a huge blur, going in one ear and out the other despite my best attempts to shove my anger away. Defense Against the Dark Arts was spent as it always was: staring at a familiar page as I pretended to read and take notes. I would flip the page every several minutes while scribbling what was actually very descriptive curse words on a piece of parchment beside me. Thankfully I would also have the good sense to always clear the parchment later; no sense wasting good-quality parchment on something like this.

Despite my and Harry's best efforts to keep our tempers in check, Quidditch wasn't allowed to restart for the Gryffindor team. Poor Angelina looked miserable, Ron looked ready to strangle someone, and Harry looked like he understood exactly why Umbridge still held on to the team's right to play. Unfortunately, I did too; she was almost guaranteed good behavior from the members of the team as long as she held that over their heads!

While Harry and Ron used their now-free evening to begrudgingly work on homework, I kept glancing at the fire in hopes of catching a glimpse of my uncle's face. I actually caught Harry glancing as well, proving he was more wound-up than I'd originally thought. It wasn't until past midnight that the four of us finally had the common room to ourselves. I'd managed to finish two essays and get partway through a third before I heard Ron say that name.

"Sirius!"

I dropped my quill and spun around to see my uncle grinning over at us.

"Hi!" he said.

"Hi," we all said as we hurried over to kneel or sit on the hearthrug.

"… So, how're things?" Sirius said, grinning slyly at us.

"Not that good," Harry groaned. "The Ministry's forced through another decree, which means we're not allowed to have Quidditch teams –"

"– or secret Defense Against the Dark Arts groups?" Sirius asked, grinning like a Cheshire Cat who'd gotten a lake full of cream.

"How'd you – ?" Harry asked.

"You want to choose your meeting places more carefully," Sirius said, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "The Hog's Head, I ask you …"

"Uncle Sirius?" I asked, sending Hermione a very smug sidelong look. "Why exactly would the Hog's Head be a bad meeting place compared to … oh, I dunno … the Three Broomsticks or something?"

Sirius's face became full of pride when he saw I already knew the answer.

"More people around, which means you'd have been harder to overhear," he said, all but bursting with pride.

Looking over at a very disgruntled-looking Hermione, I said, "Normally, I wouldn't do this, but –"

I immediately rose up onto my knees and pointed at her.

"HA! I _told_ you so!"

I was rewarded with a bark-like guffaw from Sirius that sounded so much like mine that I understood why older witches and wizards around here gave me weird looks when I laughed.

"Who told you guys?" Harry asked once Sirius had, more or less, stopped laughing.

"Mundungus, of course," Sirius said, laughing again at our puzzled faces. "He was the witch under the veil!"

"That was a _wizard?_" I gasped. "… Should I feel uncomfortable at how convincing he was as a woman?"

"If you ever see him face-to-face, you'll feel even more uncomfortable," Sirius chuckled.

"Why was Dung hiding from us?" Ron pouted. "We'd've liked to've seen him!"

"He was banned from the Hog's Head twenty years ago," Sirius said, "and the barman's got a long memory. Anyway … First of all, Ron – I've sworn to pass on a message from your mother."

"Oh yeah?" Ron asked apprehensively. I grinned excitedly; this should be good!

Sirius took on a very bored expression as he rattled off his message, "She says on no account whatsoever are you to take part in an illegal secret Defense Against the Dark Arts group. She says you'll be expelled for sure and your future will be ruined. She says there will be plenty of time to learn how to defend yourself later and that you are too young to be worrying about that right now. She also " – Sirius's gaze landed on Harry and Hermione – "advises Harry and Hermione not to proceed with the group, though she accepts that she has no authority over either of them and simply begs them to remember that she has their best interests at heart. She would've written all this to you, but if the owl had been intercepted you'd all have been in real trouble, and she can't say it for herself because she's – ah, running errands at the moment."

"That last bit was a load of bullcrap," I said monotonely. "I already know about the Order, thanks to Harry, and no, I won't be telling anyone else about it," I added, noting Sirius's slightly panicked expression. "He told me a lot of things in confidence, and Americans are rather famous at keeping secrets … so, yeah! I won't tell!"

Sirius gave me a long look before saying, "If you weren't related to me, I admit I'd be very worried."

I just shrugged and gave him a small smile, knowing that I'd feel the same way in his position.

"So, the Ministry doesn't want us to do it, and Mrs. Weasley doesn't want us to do it," I said, trying to get the discussion away from me for the moment, "but what about you? Do you want us to say that we're not going to take part in the defense group?"

"Me? Certainly not!" Sirius said, looking very comically offended. "I think it's an excellent idea!"

"You do?" Harry asked, his entire demeanor lighting up at the sound of his godfather's approval, which Sirius noticed.

"Of course I do!" he said to Harry. "D'you think your father and I would've lain down and taken orders from an old hag like Umbridge?"

"But – last term, all you did was tell me to be careful and not take risks –"

"Last year, all the evidence was that someone inside Hogwarts was trying to kill you, Harry!" Sirius said impatiently. "This year we know that there's someone outside Hogwarts who'd like to kill us all, so I think learning to defend yourselves properly is a very good idea!"

"And if we do get expelled?" Hermione asked.

"Hermione, this whole thing was your idea!" Ron said in shock.

"I know it was … I just wondered what Sirius thought," she said with a shrug.

"Well, better expelled and able to defend yourselves than sitting safely in school without a clue," Sirius said.

I chuckled at the phrase, making everyone look at me quizzically.

"We need to put that on a poster for our group," I chuckled. "Just … hang that up on the wall of the meeting space or something. It would be hilarious to see people's faces!"

The boys all chuckled heartily at my idea, liking the sound of it very much.

"So," Sirius said, "how are you organizing this group? Where are you meeting?"

"Well, that's a bit of a problem," Harry said. "Dunno where we're going to be able to go …"

"We already decided the Shrieking Shack was too small to fit twenty to thirty people," I said, wanting to keep Sirius up-to-date. "The Dark Forest was suggested, but Ron shot that down right away."

"Well, I'm sure you'll come up with something," Sirius said, looking like he was thinking hard. "There used to be a pretty roomy secret passageway behind that big mirror on the fourth floor, you might have enough space to practice jinxes in there –"

"Fred and George told me it's blocked," Harry said, shaking his head. "Caved in or something."

Sirius frowned, but I could tell he hadn't given up just yet. I smirked at the sight; guess I came by my stubborn streak honestly.

"Well, I'll have a think and get back to –"

He froze in alarm and turned to look to his right at the solid wall of the fireplace.

"Uncle Sirius?" I asked anxiously, inching forward a little before Sirius's head vanished from the flames without even a goodbye.

I immediately tensed up, knowing that if he was anything like me, Sirius wouldn't just ditch us in the middle of a sentence for no reason. Something had scared him off, something really bad.

I got my answer a moment later when a stubby, short-fingered hand began groping around the fire.

We didn't even stop to grab our homework as the four of us bolted up the stairs to our dormitories, somehow more terrified by the sight of Umbridge's hand than the idea of someone stealing our stuff.

A few moments later, Hermione and I crouched on our beds, shaking with fear and trying to not wake anyone else up with our heavy breathing. In the moment we made eye contact, a few things clicked in our minds.

Umbridge had attacked Hedwig and Regulus or at least had told someone to do it.

Umbridge was reading our mail, _illegally_.

Umbridge was monitoring the Floo Network to make sure no secret messages came into or out of Hogwarts.

Umbridge was threatening the staff with unemployment if they did anything that "the Ministry" didn't approve of.

Umbridge was effectively isolating anyone who was brave enough to defy her.

And all this meant one very terrifying thing:

For all intents and purposes, we four were completely on our own from this point forward.


	25. Baby Steps

**Chapter Twenty-five:**** Baby Steps**

Charms Class was tense for the four of us the next morning. We used the general chaos of learning a new charm to hide our conversation about what had almost happened last night.

"It was a very, very close call last night," Hermione said seriously. "I just wonder if Umbridge knows how close it was. _Silencio!_"

The bullfrog on which she was practicing her Silencing Charm was cut off rather rudely and gave Hermione a dirty look that would've made me laugh if I wasn't so worried.

"If she'd caught him …" I said, not quite able to finish from the fear of jinxing it all.

"He'd be in Azkaban this morning," Harry said grimly, waving his wand without really concentrating. His bullfrog swelled like a balloon and made a high-pitched whistling sound.

"_Silencio!_" I said quickly, pointing my wand at Harry's frog, knowing that too much attention our way would stop this conversation before it had really started.

"Well, he mustn't do it again," Hermione said. "I just don't know how we're going to let them know. We can't send him an owl!"

"I don't reckon he'll risk it again," Ron said placatingly. "He's not stupid, he knows she nearly got him. _Silencio!_"

The raven he was practicing on looked at him and cawed right in his face, as if to spite him. If I wasn't so anxious, I would've howled in laughter at the sight.

"It's the way you're moving your wand," Hermione said, reaching out to guide Ron's hand critically. "You don't want to wave it, it's more of a sharp jab. Like that, see?"

I don't know which was funnier, Ron's vibrantly maroon face or Hermione's dogged obliviousness of the situation. I couldn't help grinning over at Harry who still looked a tad apprehensive, probably still worried about Uncle Sirius.

During break, we got the amazing news that Angelina had gotten permission to get the Gryffindor Quidditch Team started up again. My stomach dropped when she told us how she'd gone over Umbridge's head to McGonagall, who _might_ have appealed to Dumbledore. Don't get me wrong, I was really happy that Quidditch had started back up – I was _dying_ to see a real game for myself and compare it to Quodpot – but the fact that Angelina had gotten what she'd wanted by going to McGonagall while I hadn't made me feel more than a little bit bitter.

I looked over at Hermione and saw her sitting on a nearby bench and looking unusually pensively out the window. Frowning with concern, I walked over to her and sat down.

"You OK?" I asked nonchalantly, knowing that if I got freaked out, the boys would notice right away.

"Just thinking …" Hermione said, staring outside at the torrential rain.

"Knut for your thoughts," I said, leaning over to nudge her shoulder with mine.

"About … about your uncle," she said hesitantly.

"Worried about him?" I asked.

"No … not exactly," Hermione said slowly. "More … wondering if … I suppose we're doing the right thing … I think … aren't we?"

I blinked confusedly but said with a shrug, "I like to think so. So does Uncle."

"Yes," she said, still looking out the window. "That's what made me think maybe it wasn't a good idea after all …"

I arched an eyebrow as I shot a questioning look at her. I glanced over at the boys, who were still discussing something with Angelina (probably Quidditch) and scooted closer to Hermione.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "From what Harry's told me, he's always given good advice."

Hermione was quiet for a while as she watched Angelina, Harry, and Ron start to yell at Peeves when he pegged Katie Bell, another member of the team, with ink pellets. When Hermione spoke again, it was like she was choosing her words very carefully.

"You don't think he has become … sort of … reckless … since he's been cooped up in Grimmauld Place? You don't think he's … kind of … living through us?"

I blinked in surprise and my mouth opened immediately to say something, but for some reason, Hermione's pensively worried expression made me stop and think about what she'd said.

" … Probably," I said carefully. "But don't you think … that maybe we could give him something to live _for_ by doing this?"

I looked over at her and saw the surprise on her face, like she hadn't thought of that before.

"From what you've told me of Grimmauld Place," I said, "it's like Depression's Home Address. Anyone would get depressed and angsty and stir-crazy living there. By showing him that we're going to fight against the dangers here and out there, I think we're going to inspire him. Who knows, maybe he can be some mystery sponsor who provides us with tips he's picked up and extra special books he has lying around that hell-hole! If we involve him somehow … I have a feeling we'd make his day!"

The rest of the day was spent trying to not get too wet as we went to classes. After dinner, I went to go find a little quiet spot away from the common room to do homework. I'd gotten a few too many dirty looks from Finnigan and Brown and stupid people like them and decided to take a break.

I was wandering around the seventh floor until I found a tapestry of some crackhead trying to teach trolls ballet. I gave the tapestry a proper once-over, walking from one end to the other a few times as I wondered if anyone had ever tried to do something like that here, teaching someone something that would normally be frowned upon.

That's when I started hearing the band Clock singing "Whoomp! (There It Is)".

I blinked in confusion and took a couple steps back before realizing that I was actually hearing the music coming from behind me. I spun around and saw a door in the previously-empty wall. More than a little curious, I walked forward and pulled the door open in time to see my Slytherin acquaintance, Tracey Davis, dancing to the song and looking like she was having a ball!

I quietly walked inside as Reeves &amp; Mortimer's "I'm A Believer" came on, grinning in shocked pride as Tracey began to dance and lip-sync perfectly to the song. The door closed with barely a sound as I leaned against it, content to watch a friend drop her barriers for a moment. When the song was done, I politely applauded and laughed when poor Tracey nearly jumped out of her skin.

"It's OK," I said, walking forward with my hands held up, "it's just me."

"Merlin's pants, Dolan!" Tracey gasped, a hand to her heart. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Sorry!" I chuckled. "I couldn't resist when I heard the music. I didn't know you danced!"

Tracey looked a bit embarrassed as she admitted, "Not many people do."

"So … keep this between us, then?" I asked, smiling as I saw her almost sag in relief.

"Yes, thanks!" she said.

"Can I join you?" I asked. "I haven't had a good night of musical therapy for ages, and it's been killing me!"

"… Sure," Tracey said semi-hesitantly. "Do you want to see what I have?"

"Sure," I said nonchalantly as I walked over to the waiting record player, which had vinyl records of pretty much every song that was great to dance to. I was drawn to one that had five men who were dressed in rock-drag outfits. On the bottom of the record was the words "Stay Hungry".

"You've got 'Twisted Sister'?!" I gasped, so excited about a song that I knew was on this album.

In answer, Tracey just gave me a sultry smile and a naughty hip swish.

"Oh, I've gotta put this on!" I said, wasting no time in getting the record ready.

"I think the song you want is number two," Tracey said.

I grinned in answer and began to get ready, taking off my robes and tie as well as undoing a couple buttons on my shirt. My skirt was already rather short, so any adjustments there would be showing _way_ too much! I glanced over at Tracey and grinned again when I saw her doing the same thing as I was. Before I could comment on that, the song come on with a heavy drum beat.

The music was angry and rowdy and loud and just plain awesome! When we danced, we embraced the spirit of the song and danced like we were at the wildest rock concert ever. When the final note faded away, we started leaning against each other, laughing delightedly at how free we both felt.

Over the next hour, we danced from everything from Madonna to Bon Jovi to Whitney Houston to Queen to Joan Jett and the Blackhearts to ABBA to my idol Michael Jackson. We were sultry, angry, wild, fun, flirty and just plain weird as we danced around the room and let out our separate balls of stress until we were laughing breathlessly on the floor, too worn out to move for the moment.

"That … was awesome!" I gasped, turning to face Tracey, who was grinning back at me.

"Yeah," she said. "You … you're pretty good … for a Gryffindor Yank."

I shrugged and said, "What can I say? Not everyone … is born this awesome!"

Tracey gave a short, bitter bark of a laugh and turned so she faced the ceiling instead of me. The transformation was swift and almost scary to see – her face became hard, her eyes became steely, and yet her bottom lip wobbled as she seemed to fight tears.

"Tracey?" I asked, rising up on one elbow to look more closely at her.

"… I'm a nobody in Slytherin," she admitted quietly as a tear fell down her chocolate-colored cheek. "I mean, both Pansy and Daphne are purebloods through-and-through, and yes, Millicent's a half-blood, but the pureblood line is through her father. And her mother's a half-blood, too! Me … I'm half-witch, half-Muggle! And since my mother married out of the family, I have no sway on … well, anything important! I wasn't born awesome like you were … so I can't be awesome …"

I was honestly floored by the vulnerability Tracey was showing me. From what I understood about Slytherins, most wouldn't be caught dead crying or spilling their guts to someone, let alone someone from the rival House!

"Y'know what my mom would be called if Malfoy knew?" I asked quietly. I waited until Tracey was looking at me to answer. "She'd be called 'Mudblood'. She was the daughter of two No-Maj authors, and she dared to make friends and even fall in love with the second son of one of the oldest pure-blood families in Britain. Fortunately, the Zabinis took her in as a distant cousin of sorts, but if they hadn't, she wouldn't have lasted a month here! According to Slytherin's 'pure-blood only' rules, I shouldn't exist because No-Maj-borns shouldn't exist. And to make things worse, I'm actually _related_ to Malfoy! His mom was my dad's cousin … I think," I mused, trying to remember the family tree I'd found in the library that described my dad's family. "That makes me even more of a traitor, because I dare to prove that the Black family isn't pure anymore!

"When I said I was 'born awesome', it wasn't because my family line was awesome. It's because _I_ am an awesome human being who has worked and clawed and fought her way to become what she is today. I've dared to look people in the face and say that while I may not come from a place or a family as fancy as theirs, I'm still making something of myself and that something _is _awesome! You can do the same thing!"

"B-But Pansy –"

"Is a spoiled brat who only uses her daddy's last name and pure spite to get places in this world!" I said firmly as I sat up. "Y'know where she's gonna end up in a few years? Married to some pureblood boy who'll end up hating the sight of her and run off to a dozen mistresses once she pops a boy-child out! And you? You'll become the head of the Goblin Liaison Office, an honorary Goblin, fluent in every dialect of Gobbledegook, and filthy-stinkin' rich because you are ambitious and _sincere_ in your desires! You actually _want_ goblins and wizards to get along, because you _know_ that the world will be a better place for it! Yeah, you may have to work harder than Pansy will to become comfortable after school, but you will be happier and you will be remembered! She won't be, I can guarantee that right now!"

Tracey stared at me for a few moments before sitting up across from me and looking me straight in the eyes.

"You really believe that?" she asked, seeming to be making a statement more than asking a question.

"Yes," I said firmly, not flinching from her direct, intense gaze.

Her gaze didn't decrease in its intensity, but it did soften as she slowly began to accept what I was telling her. She didn't say anything and I didn't say anything either, but I did place my hand over hers in an attempt to support her as she held herself together.

We stayed there for a while, working on homework we'd brought with us and somehow agreeing to not talk about what had just happened. Somehow, our friendship felt much stronger now that we'd let a wall fall for each other. Yeah, we were still guarded, but we were more likely to trust each other than before.

One baby step, but at least one in the right direction.


	26. Moving Forward

**Chapter Twenty-six:**** Moving Forward**

I got back to the Gryffindor Common Room that night to find Harry asleep in an armchair near the almost-extinguished fireplace. Most of the candles had burned out, leaving the room draped in warm shadows. Knowing that Harry would get a massive crick in his neck if he stayed half-sprawled in that chair all night, I started to shift him into a more comfortable position when he began to twitch and moan, his breathing turning heavy and almost frantic.

"Come on …" I heard him mutter. "Bit further … come on … bit closer …"

_CRACK!_

"Harry Potter, Sir!"

I yelped and spun around, wand in hand, as Harry bolted upright in his chair and blearily called "Whozair?"

"Dobby has your owl, Sir!" a squeaky voice came from somewhere in front of me.

As my adrenaline-fueled vision peered through the darkness, I saw a scarecrow of a creature with large, tennis-ball-green eyes and flappy, pointed ears. It looked like it was wearing at least ten different knitted-caps, five scarves, and innumerable pairs of socks, and it was looking at Harry with a look of complete adoration as it balanced Hedwig precariously on top of its many hats.

"Dobby?" Harry asked, standing up and walking around me to get a better look. As he passed me, he discreetly reached out and lowered my wand hand, which was still pointing my wand right between the creature's eyes.

"Dobby volunteered to return Harry Potter's owl!" the creature called Dobby squeaked. "Professor Grubbly-Plank says she is all well now, Sir!"

"Thanks, Dobby!" Harry gasped as Hedwig fluttered over to his arm.

"What about Regulus?" I asked, walking forward to stand beside Harry.

"Winky has him here, Miss," an even squeakier voice called tiredly.

It was embodied by a sloppy-looking creature that, in contrast to Dobby, had a look of endless misery as it cradled Regulus in her tiny hands. To my surprise, Regulus turned and gave the new creature a friendly nip on its tomato-like nose before flying to my hand. I noticed the wistfulness on its face as it accepted Regulus's friendliness.

"You helped him get better, didn't you?" I asked.

"Yes, Miss," the creature called Winky said, a small smile on its face as it curtsied. "Grubbly-Plank is needing help to care for two owls and she is choosing Winky to help, Miss."

I gave Regulus a quick once-over and smiled.

"Well, he looks great!" I said, not at all knowing what was about to happen next. "You did a good job, Winky! Thanks!"

I all but jumped out of my skin and stumbled into the armchair Harry had just vacated when Winky burst into loud, long, and absolutely pathetic sobs. Poor Regulus and Hedwig were hooting indignantly and flying around the room as they watched the show.

"What did I do?!" I asked loudly, hoping Harry heard me over Winky's sobs.

"Told her she did a good job," he said just as loudly, holding a hand over one of his ears as she continued to howl. "She hasn't heard that for at least a year, probably."

"A year?!" I repeated. "Is she just that bad or are people just that cruel?!"

"She was … let go," Harry said, glancing warily over at Winky, who was screaming too loudly to hear him. "She's been on a downward spiral ever since."

"Wha … What exactly is she?" I asked, not recognizing the creatures' species at all from my past Magical Creatures classes.

"A house-elf!" Harry said. "Don't you have those in America?"

"No!" I said, shaking my head as I finally remembered house-elves and what little I'd learned about them. "They all died out after the Civil War because the Emancipation Proclamation and the Thirteenth Amendment accidentally freed them all! They're barely mentioned in our history classes … I didn't recognize them at all!"

Harry was blinking owlishly as he went over what I'd just said. Now feeling more than a little aggravated, I gritted my teeth and marched over to the elves. Dobby was now trying to calm Winky down as she rolled onto her back and began beating and kicking the air, clearly in the middle of a depression-fueled tantrum.

"Winky, _that's ENOUGH!_" I bellowed, stomping my foot for good measure. To my surprise, she actually stopped crying. She rolled over and got shakily back to her feet, wiping her streaming eyes and nose on her already-filthy dress.

"Winky is begging your pardon, Miss," she sniffled. "Winky's behavior is … unbecoming of a house-elf …"

"So what are you going to do about it?" I asked imperiously, folding my arms as I looked down at the devastated elf. The poor thing looked up at me as if unsure if she'd heard me right.

"You're right," I said. "Your behavior is … immature and uncontrollable, and you can't keep acting this way if you want to redeem yourself. So, what are you going to do about it?"

I saw Winky look down at the ground, her eyes moving back and forth as she began to actually think through my question. After a moment, Winky looked up at me with fear and a shaky resolve in her eyes.

"Winky will stop drinking butterbeer, Miss," she said tremulously as her body began to shake at the idea. "Winky will stop getting drunk, and Winky will start helping around the kitchen here at Hogwarts, Miss."

I gave Winky a smile and a nod to show my pleasure; she beamed back at me in hesitant excitement.

"Dobby," I said, making said elf look up at me. "I need you to help keep Winky accountable. Get rid of every bottle of butterbeer that you can and make sure Winky can't get to the rest. If she slips and has even a single taste of butterbeer, she needs to come to you and confess. Would you be willing to hold her accountable for her slip-ups, or would you feel better coming to me about them and letting me handle them?"

Dobby looked shocked and, quite frankly, rather uncomfortable that I would consider him as entirely responsible for Winky.

"D-Dobby is honored that Miss would consider him," he said, obviously trying to stay diplomatic, "b-but … perhaps Miss would be better suited for this task."

I chuckled at him and nodded.

"Alright, that's fine," I said before fixing my gaze on Winky, who was looking at me strangely.

"What's on your mind, Winky?" I asked.

Winky hesitated before saying, "You are of the Black family, Miss! You are related to my m-master, Mr. Crouch!"

"Uhh, I … yeah, I am," I said, slightly befuddled that she could sense that in me. "How'd you know that?"

"House-elves is sensing old magics, Miss," Winky said, fiddling with her dress. "Pure-blood family magics. Your family is … only having one house-elf now."

"Um, yeah, Kreacher, I think they called him," I said.

"He is very old, Miss," Winky said, glancing up at me with a strange expression on her face. "Winky is remembering Kreacher, my mother is remembering Kreacher, and my grandmother is remembering Kreacher. He is being old when Winky's grandmother is being young, Miss."

"Really?" I asked, glancing over at Harry to see him nod at me, confirming Winky's story.

"He is …" Winky hesitated. "He is not cleaning well, and he is not keeping secrets well. He does not honor his master, shame on Kreacher!"

"And I suppose you would," I asked slyly, finally realizing what Winky was hinting at. I remembered that house-elves were happiest when they had a family to serve; since Winky was let go, she was in need of a family to serve.

"Winky would! Until the end of time, Miss!" Winky said passionately. "Winky would clean the house until Winky's hands were raw, and Winky would keep cleaning! Winky would hide Master's secrets until even Winky forgot them! Winky would be a good house-elf, Miss! Winky only wants to make Master happy, Miss!"

I chewed on my tongue for a moment, considering how to phrase my next question.

"And what would you do, Winky," I asked, "if someone else … say, another house-elf … tried to expose your master's secrets?"

The look in Winky's large, liquid brown eyes became as hard as stone as she coldly stated, "Winky would stop him, Miss. Whatever it took to protect Master."

"Anything?" I asked, wanting to be certain she understood my intentions. "Even illegal things? Like killing?"

Winky nodded without hesitation, drawing herself to her full height of two whole feet.

"Anything for Winky's master, Miss."

I looked over at Harry, who looked extremely concerned about the line of questioning I was taking. I smiled and winked at him, hoping to keep him calm.

"I can't make any promises, Winky," I said firmly, whipping out the aristocratic tone Tracey had talked to me about earlier, "_but_, if you get better and _stay_ better … over Christmas, I will talk to my uncle – the head of the Black family – about taking you on as Kreacher's replacement. My uncle will be the one to make the final decision, but if you don't do anything that would make me give a bad report to him, I don't see why he wouldn't accept you."

Winky's eyes filled with tears again, but thankfully she didn't start crying again. She simply gave me a deep curtsy and a brilliant smile as she said, "Miss would be a wonderful Mistress! Yes, Winky agrees! Yes, yes, yes!"

"OK, then!" I said, extending my right hand to her. "Shake my hand to seal the deal."

Without hesitating for even a moment, Winky danced forward and began to shake my hand vigorously with both of her own. I felt a slight electric shiver race over my hands where Winky's skin was touching mine. Maybe it was her magic sealing our deal, but I wasn't sure.

I glanced over at Dobby, who was grinning ecstatically at Winky.

"What is it, Dobby?" I asked.

"Dobby is very happy for Winky, Miss," Dobby said. "Dobby is excited for Winky to be happy again, just like Dobby wishes for Harry Potter to be happy again!"

I glanced over at Harry, who seemed a bit ashamed that someone had notice his depression.

"Dobby heard Harry Potter muttering in his sleep," Dobby continued, looking timidly up at Harry. "Was Harry Potter having bad dreams?"

I looked over at Harry to hear his answer.

"Not really bad," he said, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "I've had worse."

Dobby looked Harry over, his face serious and his normally perky ears drooping.

"Dobby wishes he could help Harry Potter," he said, "for Harry Potter set Dobby free and Dobby is much, much happier now …"

I gaped over at Harry as I remembered his stories about the little over-zealous elf that had nearly killed him during second year in a well-meant attempt to keep him safe.

"Wait, you're _the_ Dobby?!" I asked. "The one Harry freed by tricking Old Man Malfoy with a sock?"

"Oh … yes indeed, Miss!" Dobby said, looking ecstatic that Harry had talked about him.

"Hey, Dobby …" Harry said.

We looked over at him and saw him looking intensely at his scarred hand.

"There is something you can do for me," he said, looking over at Dobby, who beamed at the idea of being useful to his beloved Harry Potter.

"Name it, Harry Potter, Sir!"

"I need to find a place where twenty-eight people can practice Defense Against the Dark Arts without being discovered by any of the teachers," Harry said seriously. "Especially Professor Umbridge."

Harry and I were both surprised when Dobby and Winky got very excited; they gave a little skip, Dobby wiggling his ears and Winky clapping her hands.

"Dobby and Winky know the perfect place, Sir!" Dobby squeaked happily. "Dobby heard tell of it from the other house-elves when he came to Hogwarts, Sir! It is known by us as the Come-and-Go Room, Sir, or else as the Room of Requirement!"

"How come?" I asked, looking down at Winky.

"Because it is a room that a person can only be entering, Miss," Winky said seriously, "when they is having real need of it. Sometimes it is being there, and sometimes it is not, but when it is appearing, it is always being equipped for the seeker's needs."

"Dobby knows Mr. Filch has found extra cleaning materials there when he has run short, Miss," Dobby said excitedly.

"And if you really needed a bathroom," Harry said, sounding like he'd just remembered something, "would it fill itself with chamber pots?"

"Dobby expects so, Sir!" Dobby said earnestly.

"It is being a most amazing room, Sir and Miss," Winky echoed.

"How many people know about it?" Harry asked.

"Very few, Sir!" Dobby said. "Mostly people stumbles across it when they needs it, Sir, but often they never finds it again, for they do not know that it is always there waiting to be called into service, Sir!"

"It sounds brilliant!" Harry said, looking more excited than he had been on the day we'd formed our little group. "It sounds perfect, Dobby! When can you show me where it is?"

"Anytime, Harry Potter, Sir!" Dobby said delightedly. "We could go now, if you like!"

"But what about Harry Potter's sleep, Dobby?" Winky asked worriedly. "He looks very tired, maybe Harry Potter should get a good night sleep before we is showing him the Room."

I glanced over at Harry, who did look exhausted.

"It wouldn't be a bad idea," I said nonchalantly. "We wouldn't want to forget the way there because we were more focused on keeping our eyes open."

After a moment, Harry sighed and sank into another armchair.

"You're right, Reg," he said. "Not tonight, Dobby … this is really important, I don't want to blow it … it'll need proper planning. Listen, can you two tell us exactly where this Room of Requirement is and how to get in there?"

And with the advice of two unassuming house-elves, our rebellion made a huge move forward.


	27. I Can't Wait

**Chapter Twenty-seven:**** I Can't Wait!**

Harry and I spent another hour going over things with Dobby and solidifying our plans before going to bed feeling almost too wired to sleep. Thankfully, we managed a few hours before we had to leave our warm, comfy, and _dry_ beds to face the bone-chilling discomfort of a British rainstorm. Breakfast thankfully consisted of steaming-hot foods that would stick to our ribs and keep us warm all morning.

Choir was pretty fun because we were singing traditional Gaelic songs for our first concert. We girls were definitely the stars of the show, but there were a few songs where the boys' voices shone through. Tracey and I got particular notice because apparently our harmonies had noticeably improved after only one week of meeting. I glanced over at her and smirked back when I saw her smirking at me. We were going to be a force to be reckoned with in this choir, and it would be fun to have a friend who had a dark side just as barbed and venomous as mine. We spent break discussing our assignments, our classes, and some of the juiciest gossip I'd ever heard.

"No way!" I gasped, turning slightly to look Tracey right in the eye. "Malfoy and Parkinson actually _aren't_ an item?!"

"Of course not!" Tracey scoffed. "Pansy's crazy about him, obviously, but he only went to the Yule Ball with her because she chased away any girl who wanted to ask him!"

"Is he eyeing anyone?" I asked, anxious to know.

Tracey shrugged. "It's hard to tell sometimes, he's so mysterious about it all! People have been guessing for years, though! Not to his face, obviously – he'd murder us if we told him half of our guesses."

"How bad can they be?" I asked.

Tracey glanced around for a moment before leaning close and hissing, "For a while, we thought he had a crush on Granger!"

I let out a quick burst of laughter before clapping my hands over my mouth to smother it. Tracey started chuckling right along with me, which brought the attention of the subject of our laughing fit.

"Whatever is so funny?" she asked, a stern look on her face and a light of mirth dancing in her eyes.

Tracey and I couldn't hold it in any longer – we just started guffawing, leaning on each other for support, much to Hermione's bewilderment. After a while, we'd calmed down enough to tell her, only to laugh even harder when she turned a shade of pale greenish-gray and shrieked in disgust.

"Well, hopefully that isn't the story now, is it?" she asked once we'd all regained our composure.

Tracey actually chuckled evilly at that one.

"Oh no, that got old a while back," she said, still holding that mischievous grin on her face.

"… Well?!" I asked after a moment of silence. "Who's the lucky lady this time? We'll need to congratulate her or something!"

Tracey just continued chuckling evilly.

"Oh, for goodness sakes!" Hermione groaned. "Just stop the suspense and tell us!"

In answer, Tracey turned and looked me right in the eye, her grin becoming wider and eviler than before.

I felt my heart drop into my stomach and the blood drain away from my face as the insinuation sunk in.

"_Ohhhh_ no …" I said, shaking my head a little.

"_Ohhhh_ yes," Tracey sneered. "Malfoy seems to have some deeply-hidden masochistic streak, falling for the pair of you," she gestured to Hermione and me.

"I mean, it makes sense, though," Hermione said, scrunching her nose as if smelling something nasty. "Most girls throw themselves at his feet! With how spoiled he is, finding a girl who gets under his skin and holds her own against him must be horribly aggravating and strangely attractive to him."

"OK, I don't care!" I said, squirming in disgust at the idea of Malfoy and me. "For one thing, he's just … _EEWWW!_ And another thing – we're related! Second cousins or something! There's no way that would be allowed, and if it is, our kids would be completely crazy! No, _eww_, not in a million years!"

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," Tracey quoted with a barely concealed grin.

I simply shot her the bird from both hands, which made Tracey laugh and Hermione gasp in disapproval.

The three of us helped each other in Transfiguration later. Hermione had to be a bit more discreet to avoid getting Tracey in trouble for befriending a No-Majborn, but she was able to help when even Tracey had problems with the coursework. I felt myself smile with satisfaction at the idea of Tracey and Hermione and me. Of course, Hermione would still be best friends with Harry and Ron, but at least now she had other options if she got sick of the boys.

During lunch, Angelina came over to us and told the boys that Quidditch practice was cancelled due to the weather.

"Good," Harry said quietly, making Angelina look at him like he'd suddenly gone insane. "We've found somewhere to have our first Defense meeting. Tonight, eight o'clock, seventh floor opposite that tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by those trolls. Can you tell Katie and Alicia?"

She looked a bit taken aback but got it together and agreed to pass the word along, leaving Harry to his "bangers and mash", as he called it. Almost on a whim, I looked over at Ron and Hermione to see Hermione giving us strange looks while Ron looked shocked at Harry's reaction.

"What?" I asked, a spoonful of mashed potatoes inches from my mouth.

"Well …" Hermione hemmed, "it's just that … well, I've never heard of this room. It's not in anywhere in _Hogwarts: A History_ …"

"I've used it before," I said with a shrug.

"Dumbledore knows about it, too," Harry said nonchalantly. "He mentioned it to me at the Yule Ball."

"Dumbledore?" Hermione repeated, relief clear in her eyes.

"Just in passing," Harry shrugged.

We spent the rest of the day hunting down the people who had come to our meeting to let them know about our meeting place. I also hunted down Tracey after lunch to try to feel her out.

"We're planning our own Defense Club," I said as I passed by her in the hall. I glanced over my shoulder and winked at her as I overtook her. I knew she was following me, so I made a slight detour to an alcove that wasn't being used by the students at the moment but wasn't too far from the path. Hoping I wasn't making a potentially fatal mistake, I leaned against the wall and waited for Tracey to show up.

Turns out I didn't have to wait more than a minute.

"Who's we?" she asked as she came up to me.

"My friends and I," I said, trying to pull off the nonchalant elegance my father's family was known for.

"I see," Tracey said, peering closely at me. I waited for a moment for her to ask me more, but when she didn't, I leaned a tad closer.

"We're doing it in secret," I said quietly, "and I was wondering if you wanted to join us."

"So … nothing Ministry-approved, then," she replied.

"_Pfft_ … no way!" I scoffed quietly.

"No textbooks."

"Not that I'm aware of."

"Spells that will actually defend us?"

"Nothing but the best."

Our gazes locked and held for almost a minute – I wasn't even sure I was breathing!

"And if I told Professor Umbridge?" Tracey asked softly … I was hoping there was some hesitation in her voice, but I couldn't be sure.

"I would lie, tell her you were trying to get us in trouble to climb her social ladder," I said coldly. "You and I would never talk again, and I would make sure that no one inside or outside this school will ever look twice at you, let alone trust you."

Tracey stared at me in shock for a long time.

"I do like you and we may be friends," I said, my voice softer but not warmer, "but if anyone betrays me, they are dead to me. I've cut off my own mother – I will have no qualms doing the same to anyone else in this building."

A long moment later, the corner of Tracey's mouth quirked up slightly.

"… Did anyone tell you that you would have been amazing in Slytherin?" she asked quietly.

I snorted in quiet laughter and said, "I would've killed Malfoy and his little army. I'll stay in Gryffindor just for the sake of keeping the peace, thanks."

Tracey laughed with me and asked, "When and where?"

"Tonight," I smirked. "Eight o'clock, seventh floor, across from that tapestry with some crackpot teaching trolls ballet. Is there anyone else you know who we can trust?"

Tracey frowned thoughtfully for a moment.

"Theodore Nott might be, he hates Umbridge's class," she said slowly, "but his dad's supposed to be a Death Eater, so that might not work. Zabini's too close to Malfoy … Daphne may be convinced if I can get her to grow a backbone sometime soon … Millicent's more interested in getting close to Crabbe than homework … Maybe some of the younger students, like the Carrow Twins – I'll see what I can do."

I allowed my smirk to become a small grin.

"Thanks," I said. "Will you be there?"

"Of course," she said somewhat exuberantly. "I can't wait!"


	28. The Inauguration of the DA

**Chapter Twenty-eight:**** The Inauguration of the D.A.**

At seven-thirty, I left the Common Room with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, leaving a secret smile over my shoulder at the smirking Fred and George. I left it to them to spread the word across Gryffindor while we got everything ready. As fifth years, we were allowed to roam the corridors until nine pm, but I couldn't help but notice the other three looking over their shoulders as we made our way to the seventh floor.

"You guys haven't done this before, have you?" I asked, smirking confidently as I walked casually down the hall.

"And you have?" Hermione asked snippily, her nerves no doubt eating away at her manners.

"Once or twice," I admitted casually, glancing over at her. "Let me give you a little advice: the best way to be somewhere you don't belong is to act like you do belong. All those shifty glances and nervous fidgets point to you doing something you know you're not supposed to be. If you calm down and act as if we're just going somewhere else to study tonight – which we _are_ – no one will notice anything funny!"

The others were quiet for a moment, and then I heard Harry take a deep breath to my right. I looked over at him and smiled when I saw him much more relaxed. He pulled out a really old-looking piece of parchment and held it up with a smirk.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he said, tapping it with his wand.

I gasped quietly as a beautifully-done map of Hogwarts appeared on the parchment. Various dots wandered the corridors or paced the rooms shown on the map, names showing up beside each dot. My heart raced as I realized what this was: I was looking at the Marauder's Map, the interactive map of Hogwarts my uncle had helped create along with Harry's dad and two others. I crept a bit closer to get a better look, gently unfolding different pull-outs and examining each closely but quickly.

"There's Filch," I said, pointing to a pullout that showed the second floor.

"And here's Mrs. Norris," Harry said as he perused the fourth floor.

"And Umbridge?" Ron asked anxiously as he glanced up and down the hall.

"In her office," Harry said firmly. "Let's go."

A few moments later, we came upon the corridor I'd been walking down when I'd run into Tracey dancing her anxiety away not too long ago.

"Okay," Harry said, "Dobby said to walk past this bit of wall three times, concentrating hard on what we need."

We each did so at the same time, pacing in a line in front of the wall. Hermione whispered something incessantly under her breath, Ron's eyes were screwed up in concentration, Harry's clenched fists were bone-white, and I practically burned a groove into the floor in front of me as I glared intensely at it.

'We need to learn to fight,' I thought, focusing all my might on that very idea. 'A safe place to learn … somewhere our enemies can't find us.'

"Harry," Hermione said sharply after we'd done our third march past. A polished wooden door had appeared on the wall, brass filigree decorating it elegantly as it inched away from the door-handles. Harry marched over, grabbed said handles, and pulled hard.

Just past the doors was a spacious room lit with large glass windows that seemed to be letting in natural sunlight, even though the sun had set ages ago. There was a large fireplace against the far wall (could use that for a free Floo or two), chandeliers hanging from the ceiling (could use those for moving targets while practicing jinxes), and walls that seemed to be made entirely of mirrors (definitely good for checking stance and wand flourishes). Almost on a whim, I walked over to one of the mirrors and felt along it. When a certain bolt was pushed, a secret door opened, revealing a closet that contained a practice dummy that looked like a fully-grown Death Eater, complete with mask and wand.

"Wicked!" Ron gasped before hurrying to check the other mirrors, Harry and Hermione not far behind.

Hermione squealed in delight when a veritable library full of defense books slid out from one panel, making us all smile. We laughed our heads off when Ron opened a door that hid dozens of silk cushions that were big enough to sit on – he yelped rather hilariously when they all fell on top of him as the door opened. Harry's face was almost split in two by an ear-to-ear, Cheshire-Cat grin when he opened a closet and found loads of instruments that Aurors used, like Sneakoscopes, Secrecy Sensors, and even a cracked Foe Glass.

"I think these were once in Professor Moody's office!" he said, breathless with excitement.

I felt a rush of pure joy when I saw how excited he actually was. I'd worried for so long that this might not be a good thing for him, but seeing that excitement, that sense of purpose light up those brilliant green eyes made all my worries and doubts burn to ash.

"Whoa …"

We spun around to see Dean, Ginny, Neville, Lavender, and Parvati standing at the door, looking very impressed.

"What is this place?" Dean asked.

"Wait 'til everyone's here," I said, knowing Harry would have to tell this story a million times if he told it to everyone who walked in. I looked over to Harry and gave him a grin; he grinned back and nodded.

As eight o'clock got closer and closer, I saw more and more people come through the door. I checked each off my mental list of who attended our last meeting and was pleased to see that everyone had come back. Just before eight, Tracey slipped through the door, just behind Chang and a couple other Ravenclaw boys. I gave her a smile and a nod, which she returned before subtly standing off to the side.

"Well," Harry said nervously when everyone had assembled, "this is the place we've found for practices, and you've – er – obviously found it okay –"

"It's fantastic, Harry!" Chang exclaimed sweetly, to which several people murmured their agreement as I clenched my jaw at the sugary-sweetness of her tone.

"It's bizarre," Fred said as he frowned around at it. "We once hid from Filch in here, remember, George?"

"But it was just a broom cupboard then …" George said in slight confusion.

"It becomes whatever you need it to be," I said. "You needed a cupboard to hide in then, and we need a practice room now. 'Ask and ye shall find.'"

"I didn't know you read the Bible," Chang said, sounding rather stupid as she stared vacantly at me.

I simply raised an eyebrow at her and said, "It's one of the most famous lines, let's not get too excited!" Thankfully, people chuckled at that, including Harry, so it was worth it to see Chang flush in embarrassment.

"Hey, Harry, what's this stuff?" Dean asked from the Dark Detectors' closet.

"Dark Detectors," Harry said. "Basically, they all show when Dark wizards or enemies are nearby, but you don't want to rely on them too much, they can be fooled.

"So, er …" he said, turning back to the crowd, "I've been thinking about the sort of stuff we ought to do first and – er – what, Hermione?" He'd noticed Hermione's hand, which made me chuckle a little.

"I think we ought to have a name, like Reggie was talking about earlier," she said brightly. "Bringing people together as a team, right?" That last bit was aimed at me, which honestly was rather touching because she'd thought my words important enough to remember.

"Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?" Angelina asked hopefully.

"Or the Ministry of Magic Are Morons Group?" Fred suggested, making me let out a bark of laughter that made the twins and Ginny jump.

"Um, yeah, that's funny," I said, trying to keep cool, "but it's a tad too obvious. We need something that sounds innocent to outsiders but is actually inspiring to us. We'll have to talk about this outside this room, so we can't let Malfoy and his little hounds catch wind of it, through rumor or otherwise."

"The Defense Association?" Chang said sweetly but not confidently. "The D.A. for short, so nobody knows what we're talking about?"

"The D.A.'s good," Ginny said, "but let's make it stand for Dumbledore's Army because that's the Ministry's worst fear, isn't it?"

There was a wave of appreciative murmuring and laughter around the room, but there was nothing but a frown on my face.

"Reggie?" Harry asked, making everyone look over at me nervously.

"That is a good name, Ginny," I said, "but what if we're caught? Dumbledore doesn't know a thing about this as far as we know, but if this whole thing goes south, he'll be the main scapegoat! We'll be drawing him in to fight a battle that he really doesn't care about!"

"Of course Dumbledore cares!" Dean said.

"Then why doesn't he have that toad on a leash, the way he has McGonagall and Snape and all the other teachers here on one?" I asked imperiously. "He was a teacher here and, in some cases, still is – his main priority should be us kids and our safety, but it currently seems to be hiding in his office and making secret plans that absolutely _nobody else_ knows about! He has his own battle to fight, whatever it is, and he's left us on our own so he can fight it. We need to fight our battles without his help or endorsement, because if we make him go down with us, we'll be out a powerful ally that we will end up needing one day."

I heard a muffled chuckle come from where Tracey had hidden herself away, which made me smirk a little.

"So what do you have in mind?" Harry asked, looking like he was seriously taking all of what I'd just said to heart.

"I like the idea of 'The D.A.'," I said, glancing at a slightly disgruntled Ginny and a visibly miffed Chang, "but I think that it should stand for … The Deviant's Arsenal. We're not an army, not anything close. What we're doing right now is preparing our ammunition – our knowledge of jinxes, hexes, and curses – so that when the fight does come, we'll be ready. All of the knowledge we'll learn will be stored in here, like the arsenal of a fort."

"I like the idea of an arsenal," a blond Ravenclaw boy said from the back, "but why a 'Deviant's Arsenal?'"

I smirked over at him and said, "Because in the eyes of the Ministry, we _are_ Deviants. We're refusing to conform to their social norm of burying our heads in the sand and sticking our asses in the air to be kicked. We're deciding to learn things _our_ way, not their way. We're deviating from society right now and staying true to who we are and what we stand for."

The Ravenclaw boy pursed his lips thoughtfully before smiling and nodding.

"I like it!" he said, sending a murmur of agreement much louder than before through the room.

"All in favor of the D.A.?" Hermione asked bossily, peering over the crowd to count hands. "That's a majority – motion passed!"

She pinned the piece of paper with all their names on it on the wall and wrote "THE DEVIANT'S ARSENAL" across the top in large letters. After a moment, she jumped and suddenly began to laugh. I hurried to her side, saw what she'd seen, and burst into laughter as well. On the mirror below the paper, words had been scrawled in a messy but elegant hand, stating: "Better expelled and able to defend yourself than sitting safely in school without a clue."

The words Uncle Sirius had said all that time ago had become our motto.

Harry and Ron started laughing when they saw the words, making everyone very confused.

"Sorry," Harry said as he caught his breath, "inside joke. Right, er, shall we get practicing then? I was thinking, the first thing we should do is _Expelliarmus_, you know, the Disarming Charm. I know it's pretty basic but I've found it pretty useful –"

"Oh _please_," Zacharias Smith, a.k.a. Puff-Snot, sneered, folding his arms and rolling his eyes. "I don't think _Expelliarmus_ is exactly going to help us against You-Know-Who, do you?"

"I've used it against him," Harry said quietly. "It saved my life last June."

Puff-Snot's mouth gaped open like a dying fish. Everyone else went very quiet and still.

"But if you think it's beneath you, you can leave," Harry continued, coldly staring Puff-Snot down until he lowered his gaze.

"Okay," Harry said after swallowing, "I reckon we should all divide into pairs and practice."

I stood up and went over to where Tracey was semi-hiding, holding out my hand to invite her into the open. She did so cautiously, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Hey! There's a Slytherin here!"

Cue the other shoe.

"Puff-Snot!" I yelled across the room. "One more stupid thing comes out of your mouth, and I'll personally feed you to the Giant Squid!"

To my delight, Puff-Snot's face went two shades lighter as he stepped back.

"And for the record," I sneered, "Tracey Davis is here because I invited her. Anyone else got a problem with that?"

No one moved for a moment, but then, Tracey did something that even I didn't expect. She marched forward with quill and ink in hand, and she carefully signed her name on the roster of names, essentially signing the same contract we'd all signed.

"Happy now?" she asked, glaring into the crowd for a moment before whipping off her robes, taking out her wand, and walking over to me. "Let's do this, Dolan."

I just smirked wickedly, making everyone shift uncomfortably around us.

"Show me what you got, Davis," I said, taking out my own wand.

"You might want to take those robes off," she said.

"I might not ever get the choice to," I rebutted, to which she just shrugged and held her wand ready.

"Right," Harry said, "on the count of three – one, two, three!"

"_Expelliarmus!_"

The shout came from half the people in the room, sending wands and books flying. Tracey's spell was basically textbook-correct so she was able to get my wand, but I could've held on if I'd wanted to. She didn't have a whole lot of power behind her spells but she did have a ton of will and focus. She was able to use what power she had and do what needed to be done with that power. Interesting …

"Your turn, GiGi," Tracey said, laughing at the face I made at the nickname as I took back my wand.

"You're gonna regret that … _CeCe_," I growled.

We took turns casting the charm at each other, spicing it up as time went on. We'd shoot the charm over our shoulders, under our arms, and between our legs in order to trip the other up or make her skirt or hair fly up. Halfway through, Tracey saw something that made her start laughing. I turned and began to laugh when I saw Puff-Snot partnering the blond Ravenclaw boy; every time Puff-Snot would open his mouth, his own wand would fly out of his hand, even though his opponent didn't even have his wand out. I pointed Tracey's questioning gaze over at Fred and George, who were taking turns pointing their wands at his back.

We jumped when Harry blew a whistle as a call to stop. We all lowered our wands and looked over at him.

"That wasn't bad," he said, "but there's definite room for improvement. Let's try again …"

He left Neville, who he'd been partnering with, some parting advice before going around and correcting people. I made sure to keep Disarming Tracey as I paid attention to Harry. To my delight, he was actually amazing! He never put people down or made them feel like less for not being able to do the charm properly. He always pointed out something specific and simple for them to work on to better their technique. He was always encouraging and straightforward, and the best part was that it all seemed to come naturally to him. He was a talented teacher in the making.

"He's pretty good, eh?" Tracey asked me.

"Yeah, he is," I said proudly.

"Hey, Reg, Tracey!"

We turned to see Harry coming toward us, looking like he meant business.

"Show me what you got," he said. "Tracey?"

She nodded, focused hard on me, and cast the charm. My wand came out of my hand with a bit more force than before, but not that much.

"Good," Harry said, walking over to her. "Really good focus. You just need to loosen up a bit, let your magic flow through you to get some more power behind your spells. Try again."

Tracey rolled her shoulders and took a deep breath before casting the charm again. This time, I leaned forward a little as my wand was tugged from my grip.

"Great job!" Harry said encouragingly. "Keep trying, you'll get it! Reg?"

I nodded and whipped out a Disarming Charm almost casually. I'll admit I was trying to impress him a little, but in the process, I lost track of much of my focus, nearly blowing Tracey off her feet with sheer magic.

"Whoa!" Harry said, clearly feeling the power behind my spell. "Not bad, Reg! Just try and focus a bit more. Try channeling it through your wand, not your fist."

"Right, sorry!" I said, focusing more on my wand before casting the charm again. This time, I didn't knock Tracey over, but she did lose her wand rather violently.

"Well done!" Harry said, gently squeezing my shoulder. "Excellent, Reg!"

He walked off to work with another couple, leaving me with Tracey, who was smirking rather evilly at me.

"Shut up!" I said sternly, pointing my wand at her. She just raised her hands and laughed a little. I sent a Disarming Charm her way, purposely making it powerful enough to knock Tracey over completely.

Around the end of the lesson, Harry's true potential as a leader and teacher shone forth. He had just finished the lesson when something amazing came out of his mouth.

"Remember, working hard is important," he said, "but there's something that matters even more – believing in yourself! Think of it this way: every great wizard in history has started out as nothing more than we are now – students! If they can do it, why not us?"

To my delight, a cheer rose from the crowd, spreading like wildfire across the room. Harry grinned wide and then glanced down at his watch, only to jump when he saw the time.

"Well, that was pretty good," he said, "but we've overrun, we'd better leave it here. Same time next week?"

"Sooner!" Dean said eagerly.

"The Quidditch season's about to start," Angelina said quickly. "We need team practices too!"

"Let's say Wednesday night, then," Harry said. "We'll decide on additional meetings then! Come on, we'd better get going … leave in the groups you came in with, just in case anyone's watching. Get back to your common rooms quickly, we don't want to get caught our first night!"

As we were waiting for everyone to leave, I was approached by the blond Ravenclaw boy. Up close, he was actually quite classically handsome, tall and leanly muscular with casually-messy blond hair and blue eyes.

"You did great out there," he said with a crooked smile. "I found it hard to keep my eyes off you."

To my surprise, I felt my cheeks heat up at the compliment.

"Um, thanks!" I said, trying hard to not giggle. "Uh … who are you exactly?"

"Oh, sorry!" the boy said. "Anthony Goldstein, Ravenclaw." He held out his hand, which I shook firmly. "I don't know if you know, but we have Charms together. I'm pretty good at flying under the radar; it's why most people don't even know my name!"

"Oh, OK!" I said, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. "So, um … if I need help in that class and can't find Hermione for some reason, can I ask you?"

"Of course!" Anthony said excitedly. "I'm a tutor for loads of the younger years, I should be able to help you out with almost any subject."

"Almost?" I asked, smirking at him.

He looked a little embarrassed as he muttered, "I just … well, Defense Against the Dark Arts is … a bit harder than most subjects."

I nodded, knowing that this subject wasn't for the faint of heart.

"Well," I said, "if you help me with the finer points of Charms, I'll see what I can do to help you in Defense. Deal?"

I had stuck out my hand again, but instead of shaking it to seal the deal, he lifted my hand up and gently kissed my knuckles. I heard Tracey muffle a snort as my face burned hotter than the sun; I honestly expected my face to burst into flame at any moment.

"It's a deal," he said, leaning up just enough to look up into my eyes in what felt like a _very_ intimate gaze. He seemed to be able to see through every wall I had, straight to my deepest and most vulnerable self, and I wasn't too sure I liked it.

I tried to look like I was fine as he left with the other Ravenclaw boys, but I was certain my fidgeting hands and blushing cheeks gave it all away.

I felt a gaze resting on me and turned to see Tracey waggling her eyebrows at me.

"Oooh, shut up!" I said turned around to hide my brightening blush as Tracey burst into laughter. She wrapped her arm around my shoulders and pulled me out of the room, still laughing uproariously.

I happened to glance over my shoulder at Harry and was actually surprised to see him frowning deeply in my direction, like he really disapproved of something. I felt my stomach turn heavy as iron and drop to my feet. Did I do something wrong? I didn't think so, but he obviously thought so!

What the heck was going on?!


	29. My First Quidditch Game

**Chapter Twenty-nine:**** My First Quidditch Game**

The next two weeks were amazing! The entire D.A. was on Cloud Nine as we went right under Umbridge's nose to learn how to protect ourselves magically. The first few lessons were mainly covering the basics, which was an excellent idea because most people didn't know how to do the basics property! Chang actually admitted out loud to Harry that she'd never Stunned anything before! Neville finally mastered the Disarming Charm against Hermione, which was a definite cause for celebration later on! Collin Creevey, a Gryffindor fourth-year who idolized Harry, got the hang of the Impediment Jinx after three lessons' hard effort! And Parvati Patil, the overly-girly and vivacious best friend of Lavender Brown, produced such an exquisite Reductor Curse that she'd reduced a table to dust!

Harry and I often traded secret grins at random moments throughout the day, absolutely ecstatic at how well everyone was doing. He, in particular, was over the moon with everything; he could even smile blandly at Umbridge as she passed him in the halls or in her classroom.

The only time he ever seemed to be pissed about something was whenever Anthony came around to talk to me. As I began to find out over the next two weeks after the D.A. got started, Anthony was a pretty nice guy! He was intelligent, gallant, and almost adorkably charming! The only thing that really gave me pause about him was the fact that he thought too much about things. I don't know if it was a Ravenclaw thing, but he would think and discuss a subject until there was nothing to be said and then _keep going_, even after he'd already reached a decision. It was his main problem with everything, really. He would over-think things until they were old and gray, and he still wouldn't take action! And as a girl of action myself, I would get so exasperated with him that I would find it hard to not lose my temper with him. There were many times that I ended a discussion by saying something along the lines of "this is how it is, and this is why – that's it!"

I don't know what Harry's problem with Anthony was, but it was clear to me after a few meet-ups with Anthony that Harry didn't like him at all. He would almost revert to his angry, hate-the-world self whenever Anthony came to discuss something with me, often finding some excuse or another to leave me alone with Anthony. I asked Hermione what Harry's problem was, but she kept telling me that Harry was jealous for some reason. I just scoffed when I heard that; as amazing as Harry was, we were just friends! He was all twitterpated about Chang (which still didn't sit well with me) and was not interested in having a relationship with me! Hermione actually got really frustrated with me, tugging on her hair as she groaned in exasperation while marching out of the room.

As annoying as Hermione's theory was, she redeemed herself when she announced that she'd created a method of communication so Malfoy wouldn't get suspicious about all the excess inter-House interaction. She brought in a basket of fake Galleons during our fourth meeting and explained the system.

"You see the numerals around the edge of the coins?" she asked. "On real Galleons, that's just a serial number referring to the goblin who cast the coin. On these fake coins, the numbers will change to reflect the time and date of the next meeting. The coins will grow hot when the date changes, so if you're carrying them in a pocket, you'll be able to feel them. We take one each, and when Harry sets the date of the next meeting, he'll change the numbers on his coin and, because I've put a Protean Charm on them, they'll all change to mimic his."

"That's brilliant, 'Mione!" I gasped, hurrying up to her to grab my own coin. "Even if Umbridge asks us to empty our pockets, she won't be able to nail us for carrying a Galleon!"

"Exactly!" she said, grinning at my enthusiasm.

"You can do a Protean Charm?!"

That had come from Terry Boot, a weedy-looking Ravenclaw boy who prided himself as knowing of more spells than anyone in the whole school.

"Yes," Hermione said, as if the Protean Charm was the easiest thing in the world.

"But that's … that's N.E.W.T. standard, that is," he said weakly.

I blinked over at him and said, "It's Hermione Granger, what'd you expect?"

That sent a ripple of appreciative chuckling and murmuring through the room, making Hermione blush.

In addition to the euphoria caused by the D.A., there was also the first Quidditch match of the season coming up on the second of November. The meetings were put on hold after our fourth meeting because Angelina kept insisting on daily practices. According to Ginny, whom I asked since Hermione couldn't give two craps about Quidditch, the House Quidditch Cup hadn't been played since Harry's third year because of the Triwizard Tournament last year, so everyone was extra-excited for a really good game. And the fact that it was Gryffindor versus Slytherin, the two biggest rival Houses that were practically mortal enemies, made it all the more tantalizing.

Even the Heads of Houses were getting involved! McGonagall didn't give us homework for the week leading up to the match, actually telling Harry and Ron that she's grown accustomed to seeing the Quidditch Cup in her study and didn't want to hand it over to Snape, so they needed to use the extra time to practice. Snape was even nastier than normal, if that was even possible. He booked the field for the Slytherin team so often that Gryffindor had a hard time getting on it to play. He also kept blatantly ignoring reports of Slytherin attempts to hex the Gryffindor players, despite an almost obscene excess of eyewitnesses to the attacks.

What was worrying me, though, was the verbal attacks that were being launched at the team, the digs that were flung at them every minute of spare time the Slytherins had. Harry would generally laugh them off and throw some witty banter back to make the rest of us laugh, but poor Ron had never had to deal with this before. When asked if he'd booked a bed in the hospital wing, he turned a rather delicate shade of green, leaving me to throw back, "Yeah, it'll have a feather mattress, satin sheets, and your girlfriend waiting for him." I had never heard Harry laugh so hard before, and the Slytherin who had addressed Ron had to be held back by his entire posse to make sure I didn't get my face caved in. Malfoy didn't help matters either, choosing to mimic Ron dropping the Quaffle whenever they were within sight of each other; Ron would turn bright red and his hands would shake so badly that he would end up dropping whatever he was holding.

Halloween was spent with tensions high and anxiety over the match even higher. The Gryffindor team almost missed the Halloween feast entirely due to their practice going long, while the Slytherin team kept smirking over at us in their evil way. I couldn't help but notice, though, that Tracey wasn't participating in the verbal campaign against the Gryffindor team and had even woven interesting-looking beads into the ends of her corn-row braids – they were gold with faint red accents painted on the edges. It wouldn't be obvious unless it was pointed out, but in Slytherin-language, she was blatantly stating which team she was supporting and it was very encouraging for me to see. I sent her a thankful smile over dinner, to which she responded by raising her glass to me in a silent toast.

The day of the match dawned sunny and bitingly cold. After waiting for the rest of the girls to head out, I dressed in an outfit that I'd planned for the day – tights that made me look like I'd rubbed a glittery-gold tan onto my white legs, black pumps that I was comfortable standing around and walking in, and a killer red-leather sleeveless minidress. The high halter neckline left my shoulder blades bare for a very special surprise for the team, which I was keeping hidden with a black leather shrug until the big reveal. After applying smoky-colored makeup, I parted my hair over my left eye and swept the dark curls over my right shoulder. After glancing in the mirror one last time, I threw on my jacket and my sexiest smirk before strutting out the door.

I was pleasantly surprised by the reaction I got when the doors to the Great Hall opened. Everyone paused as I walked by, completely shocked that I would dress this way for a Quidditch match. The silence was broken by a few appreciative whistles from the older Gryffindor boys as I got to an utterly gobsmacked Harry and stopped next to him.

"Morning …" I said, sending my smirk over at them and trying to not burst into laughter when Harry blushed bright red.

"You look great, Reggie!" Angelina gushed, leaning over the table.

"Thanks, Angie!" I replied. I leaned over to her and said, "I've got a surprise for the team. Wanna see?"

Angelina blinked before nodding. Grinning widely in anticipation, I walked backward to the center of the aisle before pulling my shrug off. I didn't have to wait long before I heard gasps of astonishment and appreciation from the Ravenclaw table behind me. After basking in that for a moment, I turned around and displayed my newest tattoo: a colored picture on my left shoulder blade of a crowned lion chomping on a bloodied serpent. In homage to Harry defeating Voldemort, I had given the lion a black mane and green eyes while giving the serpent white scales and red eyes. The crown was gold with large red rubies on each point and studding the band, displaying Harry's Gryffindor loyalty. After a nerve-wrackingly long moment of having the entire Gryffindor table stare at my back, they all burst into riotous applause. I spun back around to grin at them and give them a cheeky bow.

As I sat back down, Harry leaned over and asked, "You got two more! On your arms!"

I grinned over at him, pleased beyond words that he'd actually noticed.

"Yeah," I said. "They're called ambigrams. You write one word in a way that it reads a different way upside down." I placed my hands on my head to reveal what was written on the underside of my upper arms: "courage" on my left arm and "strength" on my right.

"What do you think?" I asked.

Harry peered at them for a long moment before smiling confidently at me.

"They look great!" he said. "When did you get them?"

"A week ago," I said, grinning back at him. "Tracey knew a guy in Slytherin who would do it right. It hurt like nothing else, but it was worth it!"

"Did he do the lion, too?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," I said. "He had to do two sessions for that one."

"Did that one hurt?" he asked hesitantly, as if not wanting to think about me being in pain.

"Yeah," I said nonchalantly, "it burned and pinched a bit, but like I said, worth it!"

"Hello," I heard a dreamy voice say behind me. I turned with a grin to see Luna but jumped a little at what she was wearing – a hat shaped like a life-size lion's head.

"I'm supporting Gryffindor," she said unnecessarily, pulling out her wand. "Look what it does …"

With a tap from Luna's wand, the lion opened its mouth wide and let out the most magnificently realistic roar I'd ever heard. Everyone in the room almost leapt out of their skins, and a few that were near us started applauding.

"It's good, isn't it?" Luna asked, grinning happily. "I wanted to have it chewing up a serpent to represent Slytherin, you know, but there wasn't time. Anyway … good luck, Ronald!"

I looked over at Ron and was immediately worried at how he looked. His face was almost gray as he stared into his soggy cereal like he was seriously considering drowning himself in it.

"What's with him?" I asked Harry, worried about saying something to shove Ron over the edge.

"Nerves," Harry said. "He can do well, he just needs to get his head in the game."

"He plays with his brothers at home, right?" I asked.

"Yeah," George said from down the table, giving Fred a significant look. "He does fine there, doesn't he, Fred?"

Fortunately, Fred was quick on the uptake.

"Yeah!" he said. "He's got good focus, great for a Keeper!"

To my delight, Ron looked up at Fred and George with a less morose expression and a bit more color in his cheeks.

"Yeah?" he asked hopefully. He looked so child-like that it almost broke my heart to realize that he'd rarely, if ever, heard any sort of validation from Fred and George. I got their attention from behind Ron and motioned frantically to them, telling them to keep going in hopes of at least getting Ron onto the field.

"Yeah, Ron!" George said, leaning forward to look Ron in the eye. "You remember when you caught that brilliant throw of Bill's last year after the Quidditch World Cup?"

"…Yeah," Ron said, seeming to gain a little confidence from the memory.

"You got what it takes," Fred said confidently. "You're a Weasley! Quidditch is in your blood!"

Ron visibly lightened up a little, but the topper was when Hermione came to sit down beside him and looked him straight in the eye and said, "You'll do brilliant, Ron!" before giving him a kiss on the cheek. He looked faintly puzzled but pleased nonetheless.

Ron was still visibly anxious, but due to the twins' validation and Hermione's kiss, at least he was willing to have some life in him as he walked down to the Quidditch field with the rest of the team, followed by tumultuous cheers from the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw tables. The Slytherins tried mightily to out-cheer us as their team walked down with the Gryffindor team; at best, they could only match us, but considering we were three Houses strong and they were only one, it was almost frighteningly impressive.

Almost on a whim, I got the idea to start up one of the most iconic rallying songs in sports history. I leaned over to Hermione and asked her if she knew the song. When she nodded, I told her to spread the word across the table and wait for my cue. I went over to the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables and told them the same thing. I was asked by Padma Patil of Ravenclaw and Hannah Abbot of Hufflepuff if they could sing the song with me. They agreed and that they would wait for my cue.

I waited until we got to the Quidditch pitch and found seats. Hermione and I were seated up at the center of the front row where I could be found easily for the cue to perform. Surprisingly, the Slytherins stood up as one and began to sing. It took a moment for me to realize what they were singing, but when I did, I was almost angry enough to breathe fire.

_"Weasley cannot save a thing,_

_He cannot block a single ring._

_That's why all Slytherins sing:_

_Weasley is our King!_

_Weasley was born in a bin,_

_He always lets the Quaffle in,_

_Weasley will make sure we win,_

_Weasley is our King!_

_Weasley is our King!_

_Weasley is our King!_

_He always lets the Quaffle in!_

_Weasley is our King!"_

When they began to repeat the song, I knew that it was now or never. I stood up and glared straight at them before starting up the rhythm.

_Stomp-stomp-clap!_

_Stomp-stomp-clap!_

_Stomp-stomp-clap!_

It was the most thrilling thing as I heard the Gryffindors behind me stomping and clapping as loud as they could along with me. Then, the sound spread to the Hufflepuffs and then the Ravenclaws, and I actually got goosebumps!

After casting a quick Sonorus on myself, I pointed my index fingers up at the Slytherins and growled out, "We Will, We Will Rock You!"

With that, the three Houses began to sing Queen's classic along with Padma, Hannah, and me, spreading the message that we will always beat the Slytherins back if they continue to mess with us. I was almost savagely pleased to see how frightened the Slytherins looked as they continued their song, albeit a bit weaker than before.

We repeated the song over and over throughout the entire game, having a battle with our voices while our respective teams battled it out in the air. Ron made a few saves, but the others were almost pathetically painful to watch. I refused to give up, though, singing at the top of my lungs to keep him going. Beside me, Hermione stomped and clapped so hard, I was amazed her hands and feet didn't fall off!

Finally, four goals in, Harry finally noticed the Snitch and dived for it, Malfoy hot on his tail. We all stopped singing to watch the catch, holding our breath as Harry and Malfoy reached for it and cheering wildly when Harry pulled up victorious, the golden ball struggling madly in his fist.

WHAM!

A Bludger had come out of nowhere and slammed straight into the small of Harry's back, knocking him off of his Firebolt. Thankfully, he'd only been five or six feet off the ground, having dived so low to get the Snitch, but it still nearly gave me a heart attack to see him tumble onto his back. I quickly grabbed Hermione's hand and dragged her through the crowd, hoping to get down to the field to check on Harry.

By the time we got down there, it looked like it was about to get very ugly. Harry was holding onto George while all three Chasers were clinging onto Fred, keeping them from pummeling Malfoy, who was screaming at them the most ridiculous things.

"Maybe you remember what _your _mother's house stank like, Potter, and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it!"

Obviously, that had been the worst in a chain of insults, because Harry finally released George and both of them attacked Malfoy at once, driving their fists into every part of Malfoy they could reach.

"Grab George!" I screamed at Hermione, racing on my heels towards Harry and praying I wouldn't turn an ankle on the way there. When I got to Harry, I grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked backward while simultaneously wrapping my right arm around Harry's neck. I managed to get him in a simple choke and pull him backwards a bit before Hermione cast an Impediment Jinx on George to knock him off, which was smart, considering George had at least half-a-foot on her.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Madame Hooch, the flying teacher and Quidditch coach, screamed as she landed nearby. "I've never seen behavior like it – back up to the castle, both of you, and straight to your Head of House's office! Go! _Now!_"

I quickly released Harry and forcibly turned him around before shoving him in that direction, knowing he would be too angry to listen properly at the moment. When he looked back at me, I stomped threateningly in his direction, at which he jumped and hurried after George, who was being ushered by the rest of the team.

"Couldn't resist coming to my aid, could you, Dolan?" I heard Malfoy leer thickly behind me.

Not willing to deal with his bull-crap one minute longer, I wheeled around and pimp-slapped him right across the mouth.

"One more word, _cousin,_" I sneered in his bloodied, flabbergasted face, "and I hit you again!"

Malfoy stared at me in shock for a moment before trying to rally back.

"M-My father will he–"

This time, I slapped his other cheek, making sure to scratch it with my nails.

"Go ahead," I said coolly. "Tell him! But you will stop compensating for your lack of balls by attacking Harry and his friends, or I will make your life a living hell! Do you understand?!"

"You can't –"

He was swiftly silenced by a punch to the mouth, which split his lip.

"_Do you_ … understand?" I asked, glaring savagely at him as Hermione and the Chasers stood behind me.

This time, Malfoy wisely kept his mouth shut as he scrambled back across the field toward his teammates. I spun on my heel and marched off towards the castle, furious at Malfoy for provoking Harry and George and furious at Harry and George for getting so worked up. I knew Malfoy was a jumped-up little piece of crap, but the team could have easily walked away from him! Instead, they stayed and listened to it! I knew I couldn't really talk after what I'd just done, but normally, I try to fight back with my words before striking with my fists. I'd worked for ages to control my temper after getting into fight after fight during my first three years at Ilvermorny, but Malfoy seemed determined to destroy all that hard work because he couldn't gain respect in his own right. He had to tear Harry, me, and everyone else around him down to make himself feel better about himself, and that made me so unbelievably angry!

I really hoped Malfoy would smarten up after this, because if I had to spend another six months with him and his smart mouth, I would likely end up murdering him and feeding the body to the Giant Squid, cousin or not.


	30. Hagrid's Back

**Chapter Thirty:**** Hagrid's Back!**

"Banned …"

That was the only word Angelina could focus on after George and Harry had come back, completely shell-shocked by Umbridge's decree. The twins and Harry were banned for life, by word of the High Toad herself. Their brooms were being confiscated, and they could never play Quidditch again.

It was if we'd never won the match at all. Everyone was either despondent or angry, and the team seemed to be in shock at the realization that they'd just lost almost half their team. Finally, people started heading off to bed, leaving Harry with Hermione and me. I was determined to not leave until Harry did; he needed support more than anyone at this point, and there was no way I was going to leave him in the lurch.

"How's your head?" I asked him quietly.

"I'll live," he said miserably. "Are you OK? Running in heels like that can't be easy."

I smiled a little at his thoughtfulness.

"One ankle's a bit sore, but I'll live," I said, sending his words back at him in a failed attempt to make him smile.

"Have you seen Ron?" Hermione asked anxiously.

Harry just shook his head. I shrugged.

"I think he's avoiding us," Hermione said, obviously very worried. "Where do you think he –"

Suddenly, the Fat Lady's painting swung forward, revealing a pale and freezing Ron trudging into the common room. When he saw us, though, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Where have you been?!" Hermione cried anxiously, springing up and to his side.

"Walking," he mumbled.

"You look frozen!" Hermione said, brushing the snow from his hair before dragging him over to the fire and all but shoving him onto the couch.

"I'm sorry," Ron moaned dejectedly.

"What for?" Harry asked.

"For thinking I could play Quidditch," Ron said. "I'm resigning tomorrow."

"And leave the team with only Chasers?" I scoffed. "I don't think so."

"Only Chasers?" Ron asked.

"Fred, George, and Harry got lifetime bans from Her Royal Toadiness," I snarled. "They started beating Malfoy up after he started mouthing off at them. They were about to get detentions from McGonagall, but Umbridge said that she now has final say with punishments and decided to ban the three of them."

"This is all my fault …" Ron groaned.

"You didn't _make_ me punch Malfoy!" Harry snapped.

"If I wasn't so lousy at Quidditch –"

"It's got nothing to do with that!"

"It was that song that wound me up –"

"It would have wound _anyone_ up!"

"That's _ENOUGH!_" I shouted. "Look, Ron, just drop it! It's bad enough without you blaming yourself for it, which is completely stupid, by the way!"

Ron just stared miserably into the fire and muttered, "This is the worst I've ever felt in my life."

"Join the club," Harry grumbled bitterly.

"I can think of something that might cheer you up," Hermione said unexpectedly from the window.

"What?" I asked, walking up beside her to see what she'd seen. I gasped when I saw the cottage where we normally had Care of Magical Creatures lessons. As long as I'd been here, it had been dark and empty, but now I could see candles lit in the windows and smoke coming from the chimney. That could only mean one thing.

"Hagrid's back!"

I'd never seen two boys go from depressed to excited so quickly – it was like they'd gotten an electric shock. We all hurried up to the dormitories to get ready to go. I quickly changed out of my dress, tights, and pumps into light blue jeans, black ankle boots, and a thick white sweater with a heart on the front. I quickly swiped a thick winter coat before hurrying downstairs to find Harry and Ron waiting impatiently for me.

"If you think I'm going to Hagrid's in a dress and pumps, you're insane!" I snarled.

"It's cold out there!" Hermione said defensively.

We slipped under Harry's Invisibility Cloak, having to crouch a little to keep from showing our feet, and crept along the hallways until we got outside, hurrying along the path to get to Hagrid's place. Harry knocked three times and let Hagrid know who it was as a dog began barking frantically.

"Shoulda known," a gruff voice said. "Been home three seconds … Out of the way, Fang … _Out of the way_, yeh dozy dog!"

The lock was drawn back, the door creaked open, and a face appeared in the gap.

"HOLY SHIT!"

I almost took the other three down with me as I stumbled back from the sight of a ten-foot-tall man that seemed to be made of minced hamburger meat. His black hair and beard were wild and filled with melting snow and blood from his many injuries. His face was mottled with bruises and cuts that made him look like more monster than man. Needless to say, I was horrified at the sight of the man that Harry had spoke so warmly and exasperatedly about.

"Merlin's beard, keep it down!" Hagrid said hastily, staring wildly in our general direction. "Under that cloak, are yeh? Well, get in, get in! Who're you?!"

As we hurried past him and into his house, I realized he was talking to me and figured that a new voice would worry him a little.

"Reggie Dolan," I said, still more than a little bit shocked at the state he was in. "I'm … I'm Sirius's niece."

"_Niece?!_" Hagrid blustered. "Since when did Reg'lus 'ave 'imself a kid?!"

"Since fifteen years ago!" I said defensively. "He never knew about it, he died right after Mom found out! Sirius has accepted me as his niece, so get used to it!"

Hagrid stared at me for a long moment before starting to chuckle. His laughter built until it was downright guffawing, and then he reached out and gave me a slap on the back that sent me face-first into the table, making Ron laugh hard.

"Yer his niece, alrigh'!" Hagrid chuckled. "Yeh sound jus' like him!"

"That's what they keep saying," I said, holding a handkerchief of Hermione's to my bleeding lip, which I'd bitten when I kissed the table. "So what's with your face? A giant flick you or something?"

"Giant?!" Hagrid said, jumping as he tried to pick up a raw slab of greenish meat. "Who said anythin' abou' giants? Who yeh bin talkin' to? Who's told yeh what I've – who's said I've bin – eh?"

"We guessed," Hermione said apologetically.

"Oh, yeh did, did yeh?" Hagrid asked sternly as he slapped the rotten-looking meat to his face.

"It was kind of … obvious," Ron said, Harry nodding in agreement next to him.

"Never known kids like you three fer knowin' more'n yeh oughta," Hagrid said grumpily. "An' I'm not complimentin' yeh, neither. Nosy, some'd call it. Interferin'."

For all his bluster, though, his beard twitched slightly as if he were trying not to smile.

"So you have been to look for giants?" Harry asked, grinning like a kid over at Hagrid.

"Yeah, all righ'," Hagrid grunted. "I have."

"And you found them?!" Hermione asked in a hushed voice.

"Well, they're not that difficult ter find, ter be honest," Hagrid said nonchalantly. "Pretty big, see! Tried ter convince 'em ter _join the cause_. But I wasn' the only one 'oo was tryin' to win 'em over."

"Death Eaters," Ron said quietly.

"Yes," Hagrid said. "Tryin' ter persuade them ter join _You-Know-Who_."

"And … did they?" Harry asked anxiously.

"I gave 'em Dumbledore's message. Suppose some o' them remembered he'd been friendly ter them, I suppose," Hagrid said with the deep sigh of a man who didn't know what else he could've done in his situation.

"And … they did this to you," Harry said, still sounding incredibly anxious.

Hagrid's expression got extremely shifty, not daring to look any of us in the eye as he muttered, "No' exactly, no."

"So … any giants coming, then?" I asked.

"Nope," Hagrid said despondently. "Suppose some could come, but no' the numbers we were hopin' fer."

I sighed, knowing extra muscle would have definitely helped against Voldemort.

"What are you going to say to Umbridge?" I asked, making Hagrid look over at me in confusion.

"'Oo?"

"Professor Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor of Hogwarts," I said, imitating Umbridge so well that it sent the other three into fits of raucous laughter. After waiting for their laughter to fade, I continued.

"She's essentially running the entire school right now," I said, "getting new laws passed every couple weeks in her mission to have complete control here. She's a Ministry mole, but she's a good one. She's got friends in the Ministry who will make sure she gets what she wants, especially if she states things certain ways. She's sick and twisted and _dangerous_, Hagrid. She's currently checking each and every teacher to make sure they're 'up to Ministry standards,' and if you don't measure up, she _will_ find a way to run you out of here! You need to have a _solid alibi_ to explain where you've been and why you got back so late in the state you're in!"

"Oh, I'll be fine," Hagrid said flippantly, actually waving his massive hand at me in an attempt to not worry me. "I'll jus' say I've been away fer me health or summat …"

"Your health?" I questioned, knowing that he was screwed if he said that. "You leave Hogwarts as healthy as an ox and come back looking like Death just sat on you – _obviously_ that trip _wasn't_ 'for your health'!"

"I did run inter a couple o' mad trolls on the Polish border," Hagrid said, obviously thinking a little. "Musta had ter … er … run ter ground a bit, wait ter heal enough ter move an' all."

"Better," I said, nodding. "Now, what were you doing around Poland?"

"There … is a smaller magical school there," Hagrid said. "Runs year-round. I do know the gamekeeper there … could say he, er, needed a bit o' help with some bigger creature or summat …"

"Abraxan horses," Hermione supplied. "A branch of the breed is bred somewhere in Poland …"

"Yeah, yeah," Hagrid said. "Headin' to magical school in Poland – can' pronounce the name – knew the gamekeeper, helped 'im with some Abraxan horses – ran inter some mad trolls on me way back, had ter run ter ground to heal a bit, made me way on foot from there."

"Great!" Harry said. "Just remember that and –"

He was cut off by a sudden outbreak of rapping on the door. We all froze for a moment before Harry urged us to get under the cloak, leaving Hagrid looking thoroughly confused while Fang barked madly at the door. Hagrid had to shove the dog out of the way with his foot before opening it to reveal Umbridge in a winter tweed coat and a matching hat with earflaps.

"So," she said loudly and slowly, as if talking to someone who was either deaf or stupid, "you're Hagrid, are you?"

Without waiting for an answer, she rudely strolled into the room, staring into every nook and cranny on her way in.

"My name is Dolores Umbridge," she said, still speaking as if Hagrid was either deaf or stupid.

"Don' you work with Fudge?" Hagrid said, glancing quickly over at where we were hiding, smooshed up in a corner under the cloak.

"I was Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, yes," Umbridge said. "I am now the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and Hogwarts High Inquisitor."

"Wha's that?" Hagrid asked, frowning.

"Precisely what I was going to ask," Umbridge said, lifting up one of Hermione's gloves, which must have fallen onto her seat as she hurried under the cloak.

"Erm …" Hagrid said.

"There are four sets of footprints in the snow leading from the castle doors to your cabin," Umbridge said sleekly.

I had to bite my tongue to stop from swearing at how careless we were.

"Well, I on'y jus' got back," Hagrid said, waving at the giant sack next to his door. "Maybe someone came ter call earlier an' I missed 'em."

"There are no footsteps leading away from your cabin door."

"Well, I … I don' know why that'd be," Hagrid said nervously, adjusting the steak on his face as he did so.

"What has happened to you?" Umbridge asked. "How did you sustain those injuries?"

"Oh, I, erm … had a run-in, y'see, with some mad trolls in Poland," Hagrid said, seeming to relax a bit more now that he was on more familiar territory.

"Poland?" Umbridge asked. "What were you doing there?"

"Helpin' a friend," Hagrid said. "Gamekeeper at the Polish magical school, needed 'elp with some Abraxan horses 'e got 'is 'ands on. Ran inter the trolls on the way back, had ter run ter ground, y'see, lay low 'til I could move well enough ter get back on foot. Can' Apparate, y'see. Can' fly, neither, look at the size o' me, I don' recon there's a broomstick that'd hold me."

"I see," Umbridge said coldly. "I shall, of course, be informing the Minister of your late return."

"Righ'," Hagrid said, nodding.

"You ought to know too that, as High Inquisitor, it is my unfortunate but necessary duty to inspect my fellow teachers," she continued, walking to the door. "So I daresay we shall meet again soon enough."

"You're inspectin' us?" Hagrid asked blankly as Umbridge opened the door to leave.

"Oh yes," Umbridge said softly, looking back at him with a simpering smile. "The Ministry is determined to weed out unsatisfactory teachers, Hagrid. Good night."


	31. Lines Drawn

**Chapter Thirty-one:**** Lines Drawn**

The next day was nothing but stress. We'd tried to talk to Hagrid about his lesson plans, but he'd been stubbornly close-lipped about them. No plea, bargain, or threat could get him to talk, but Hermione was nothing if not at least as stubborn as Hagrid was. She marched through two feet of snow after breakfast, leaving me to help poor Harry and Ron figure out their mountain of neglected homework. Sometimes I let them copy some of my work, but for the most part, I would find them the information they needed and let them put it together on their own, despite their moans and groans.

What was particularly annoying was the sound of everyone enjoying the snow outside, skating on the lake, sledding, and worst of all, enchanting snowballs to fly up and hit the window right next to us. At one point, Ron tried to use his prefect authority to make the students stop, but it turned out to be Fred and George, who didn't give a crap about that. I finally had to give them a death glare worthy of McGonagall and keep it on them as they ran away to get them to stop.

Despite Fred and George's distraction attempts, we managed to get the boys' homework done just as Hermione slumped back into the common room, defeated and shivering from the melting snow on her robes. Apparently, Hagrid's stubborn streak was wider than he was.

On Tuesday, the four of us were understandably nervous. The other three knew Hagrid's monster streak firsthand and were worried it would get worse, and I was merely anxious due to their stories of said monster streak. When we got to his cottage, he looked absolutely awful, some of his cuts still bleeding and his once-purple bruises now tinged green and yellow. He was also carrying a dead cow over his shoulder, which didn't really help reassure anyone at all. The only consolation was that Umbridge wasn't there to critique Hagrid's performance.

"We're working in 'ere today!" he announced excitedly, nodding his head at the shadowed forest behind him. "Bit more sheltered! Anyway, they prefer the dark –"

"What prefers the dark?" I heard Malfoy say, sounding more than a little panicked. "What did he say prefers the dark – did you hear?"

"Oh, I'll bet it's something with claws, Cuz," I called back over my shoulder, smirking broadly. "Maybe it'll give you a scratch to match the one Buckbeak gave you – unless your keep your mouth shut this time."

I was pleasantly surprised with the chuckles I got from the Gryffindors and at the horrified look on Malfoy's face. I don't know if he got that look from the memory of Buckbeak ripping his arm open or the fact that I kept calling him some variation of "cousin". I'm pretty sure most of him thought I was pulling his leg or something, but if I could get some proof, then I could throw my "blood-line" in his face and watch him freak out. I couldn't wait for that day!

"Right," Hagrid said, acting as if I hadn't said anything, "I've bin savin' a trip inter the forest fer yer fifth year. Thought we'd go an' see these creatures in their natural habitat. Now, what we're studyin' today is pretty rare, I reckon I'm probably the on'y person in Britain who's managed ter train 'em –"

"And you're sure they're trained, are you?" Parkinson half-shrieked, nearly blowing out my eardrums with her shrill little voice. "Only it wouldn't be the first time you'd brought wild stuff to class, wouldn't it?"

A few murmurs came from the class, including a few Gryffindors.

"'Course they're trained," Hagrid scowled.

"So what happened to your face then?" Parkinson asked.

"Mad trolls on the Polish border, Parkinson," I scoffed. "Don't you know anything?"

That snide little twit turned the loveliest shade of mottled magenta as the Gryffindors chuckled again.

"Follow me!" Hagrid said, hoisting the cow higher up on his shoulder and marching straight into the trees.

We all followed him until he reached a shadowed clearing, much like the one near the lake where I'd first met the thestrals. Most of the others were creeping from tree to tree as if expecting to get snatched any moment, but I followed Hagrid confidently and stood tall in front of him, trusting that Hagrid wouldn't be showing us anything truly awful … like a hydra or something.

"Gather roun', gather roun'," he called encouragingly. "Now, they'll be attracted to the smell o' the meat, but I'm goin' ter give 'em a call anyway, 'cause they'll like ter know it's me."

With that, he gave a strange, echoing, crooning cry that sent a shiver of déjà vu down my spine. Where had I heard that sound before …?

After Hagrid gave the call twice more, Harry nudged me and pointed at a space between two gnarled-looking trees. I couldn't see anything, but I saw dust coming up as if something was walking there. As I watched, the creature walked up to the dead cow and started ripping shreds of flesh off of the bones. I could hear more coming and swallowing down more hunks of meat, but it wasn't until I heard the cry come from one of the creatures that I finally recognized it.

"Thestrals …!" I gasped, glancing over at Harry, who was beaming back at me.

"What?!" I heard Parvati Patil hiss from behind me.

"Thestrals," I said quietly, not wanting to spook the herd. "Y'know, black winged horses …?"

"B-But they're really, really unlucky!" Lavender Brown yelped, looking horribly alarmed as she talked over the "oh!" of comprehension coming from Hermione. "They're supposed to bring all sorts of horrible misfortune on people who see them!"

"Who told you that?" I chuckled. "I've been around them before, and I'm perfectly fine! Besides, they're gentle – they won't hurt you, will they, Hagrid?"

"Oh, naw!" he said, waving his large hand flippantly. "They aren't unlucky, they're dead clever an' useful! 'Course, this lot don' get a lot o' work, it's mainly jus' pullin' the school carriages unless Dumbledore's takin' a long journey an' don' want ter Apparate – an' here's another couple, look –

"Righ', now, who can see 'em?"

Of course, Harry's hand shot up, but to my surprise, two more hands shot up – Neville Longbottom and a stringy-looking Slytherin boy who seemed a bit reluctant to be noticed.

"Righ, who can tell me why some o' you can see them an' some can't?"

I raised my hand, remembering what Harry had told me, and Hermione raised her hand as well. Seeming a bit surprised to see more than one hand, Hagrid nodded at me.

"You have to see death to see thestrals," I said. "You basically have to see someone die. Right in front of you."

"That's exactly right," Hagrid said solemnly. "Ten points to Gryffindor. Now, thestrals –"

"_Hem, hem!_"

As one, all of the Gryffindors groaned and turned to see Umbridge making her way toward us, wearing her green tweed cloak and hat and holding her stupid clipboard. What I wouldn't give to snap it in two over my knee …

"Oh hello!" Hagrid said brightly, obviously not understanding what was about to happen.

"You received the note I sent to your cabin this morning?" Umbridge asked, talking very loudly and slowly, as if Hagrid was both foreign and mentally disabled.

"Oh yeah!" Hagrid said blithely. "Glad yeh found the place all righ'! Well, as you can see – or, I dunno – can you? We're doin' thestrals today –"

"I'm sorry?" Umbridge said loudly, cupping her hand around her ear even though Hagrid was barely ten feet away from her. "What did you say?"

Poor Hagrid couldn't have looked more confused.

Eager to help Hagrid and give Umbridge something else to focus on, I stepped forward and offered to translate. Still looking confused, Hagrid nodded and waved me forward.

"He said," I said, speaking as if I was talking to a foreign, mentally handicapped, and profoundly deaf child _and_ using crude sign language to insult her further, "we are learning about big, black, winged horses today! They are called 'thestrals'! Can you say 'thestrals'?"

All Umbridge did was purse her lips together and turn the same mottled magenta color that Parkinson had turned. I knew if I pushed just a little more, I'd end up in detention, but I just couldn't bring myself to care all that much.

I turned back to Hagrid and waved him on, eager to keep the game going. I was so sick and tired of just sitting and watch Umbridge do her dirty work. Just this once, I decided to indulge myself a little.

"Well … anyway …" Hagrid said, looking confused and flustered and torn between angry and amused all at the same time, "erm … what was I sayin'?"

"Appears … to … have … poor … short … term … memory …"

Each hateful word, murmured loudly enough for the whole class to hear, was accompanied by the scratching of a quill on the clipboard. I turned halfway around and began to mimic her mockingly.

"_Appears … to … have … no … manners … befitting … a … true … witch …_"

I got a couple of horrified shocks from the Slytherins and a warning look from Hermione.

"Oh yeah!" Hagrid said, seeming to take courage from my public defense of him. "Yeah, I was gonna tell yeh how come we got a herd. Yeah, so, we started out with a male an' five females. This one," he patted the invisible flank of one of them, "name o' Tenebrus, he's my special favorite, firs' one born here in the forest –"

"Are you aware," Umbridge interrupted loudly, "that the Ministry of Magic has classified thestrals as 'dangerous'?"

For a split second, my stomach dropped, knowing that Hagrid would most likely try and laugh the Ministry's decrees off.

"Of course he does," I scoffed, drawing Umbridge's attention again. "Otherwise, he would've shown us _these_ in our third year instead of hippogriffs and flobberworms. He trusts that we're mature enough to handle these creatures now, and besides, he's making sure to stay between us and the herd, just in case! Just because he's half-giant doesn't mean he's stupid!"

I glanced up at Hagrid the moment I saw him tense out of the corner of my eye. He looked like he'd finally seen the light and was giving Umbridge a defiant glare, breathing deep in a valiant attempt to keep his temper under control. For her part, Umbridge looked positively furious at having been called out, her face almost neon magenta in anger.

To my surprise, Harry stepped up to my left and folded his arms across his chest, glaring ferociously at Umbridge. Hermione came up on my right with Ron, Neville, Dean, and Seamus right behind her. Lavender and Parvati looked a tad reluctant, but they stood behind Harry and glared at Umbridge. The Slytherins in this class, which consisted of Malfoy's little gang and the boy who was trying to hide in plain sight, looked absolutely shocked that we'd drawn the line in the sand (or snow, but whatever) so publicly. Malfoy recovered first, folding his arms and glaring ferociously back at Harry. Parkinson quickly wrapped her hands around Malfoy's arm, with Crabbe and Goyle followed Malfoy's example right behind her.

The other boy stood on the Slytherin side of the line but refused to stand next to Malfoy. He didn't step one way or the other, but he did shift his weight toward us just a little. For a split second, I made eye contact with him and gave him a shadow of a smirk. I was pleasantly surprised to get a hint of a wink in return, but I refused to show it as Umbridge started up again, this time taking my lead in talking to Hagrid.

"Hagrid, please continue teaching as usual," she said. "I'm going to walk" – she mimed walking, much to Malfoy and Parkinson's delight – "among the students" – she pointed to individual students – "and ask them questions." She pointed to her mouth to indicate talking.

The rest of the class was spent playing tug-of-war with Umbridge over supremacy of the class. Malfoy and Parkinson spent the entire time in fits of laughter at Umbridge's blatant insults towards Hagrid's intelligence and capability. Umbridge did go over towards Neville at one point, but Dean and Seamus glared so fiercely at her that she immediately backtracked and went over to the Slytherin boy.

As I eavesdropped on them, I heard Umbridge call him "Mr. Nott" and heard Nott admit that he'd seen his mother die and that he found the thestrals themselves to be rather eerie. He didn't speak much, but when he did speak, his voice was cultured like a classic Englishman's but I could hear some words that sounded somewhat similar to Hagrid's. To be honest, he sounded a bit like a higher-class pirate, as weird as that sounds.

I have no idea how I managed to escape getting detention for my behavior in class, and to be honest, it kinda scared me a little. I didn't know if she was waiting to snag me for something else or if she'd been told to lay off a little, and it was freaking me out!

"That foul, lying, twisting, old _gargoyle_!" Hermione fumed as we fought our way back to the castle after the lesson was over. "You see what she's up to? It's her thing about half-breeds all over again – she's trying to make out Hagrid's some kind of dim-witted troll, just because he had a giantess for a mother – and oh, it's not fair, that really wasn't a bad lesson at all – I mean, all right, if it had been Blast-Ended Skrewts again, but thestrals are fine – in fact, for Hagrid, they're really good!"

"Yeah, they are, aren't they?" I said.

"How'd you know what they were before Hagrid told us?" Hermione asked.

"Harry showed me," I said, glancing back to smile at Harry over my shoulder. "I couldn't see them, but they felt really cool!"

"You _touched _them?!" Ron asked, looking horrified. "But Umbridge said they're dangerous!"

"Only if threatened!" I said indignantly. "Besides, they apparently look pretty creepy, and since they're so exclusive with who is allowed to see them, the Ministry probably assumed there was something else they were hiding and just labeled them 'dangerous' so they wouldn't have to deal with them more than they had to!"

"What did they feel like?" Hermione asked, clearly very interested.

"Kinda … slippery," I said, remembering the smooth, silky skin stretched over the bony neck. "They have beaks, I think, so they're a bit birdlike, I guess."

"Fascinating!" Hermione gasped. "Oh I wish I could see them!"

"Do you?" Harry asked quietly, making our stomachs drop.

"Oh Harry," Hermione gasped. "I'm sorry – no, of course I don't – that was a really stupid thing to say –"

"It's okay," Harry said quickly, obviously not hurt by Hermione's statement but more like worried of what she'd have to go through to see the thestrals.

"I'm surprised so many people _could_ see them," Ron said musingly. "Three in a class –"

"Yeah, Weasley, we were just wondering," Malfoy asked maliciously, having snuck up behind us as we were talking. "D'you reckon if you saw someone snuff it, you'd be able to see the Quaffle better?"

"He'd be more likely to see _your_ balls first!" I called out heatedly, making Harry and Ron howl with laughter.

Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation but said nothing in lieu of whipping out her wand and performing a charm that produced hot air in order to melt an easier path through the snow up to the greenhouses for Herbology.


	32. Quidditch Trials and a Fake Boyfriend?

**Chapter Thirty-two:**** Quidditch Trials and … A Fake Boyfriend?**

Tense relations with the Slytherins reached record highs after Harry and I forced our Care of Magical Creatures class to choose a side. Poor Tracey was forced to stay with her Slytherin housemates to make sure they didn't smother her in her sleep! Almost all the other Slytherins kept throwing out snide comments, but we weren't able to actually fight back against it.

Why, you ask?

After our little … demonstration in Care of Magical Creatures, Umbridge felt threatened enough to create a little "extra-credit" club of her own: the Inquisitorial Squad, a group of students loyal to Umbridge and responsible for keeping "order" within the walls of Hogwarts Castle. It mainly consisted of the students who actively stood by her side during that class, as well as other various Slytherin students.

A quick stroke of genius got Tracey involved with the Inquisitorial Squad as a double agent for us – she joined the Squad in order to give us hints as to their movements. She had enough connections with Pansy Parkinson to make sure the other members of the IS felt comfortable with her there, and she made sure to never openly involve herself with anyone connected to Harry. She wouldn't be actively cruel to us, but she couldn't openly help us either – I ended up having to defend her from different members of the DA multiple times over the next month, especially when she finally convinced Theodore Nott to join the DA despite his Death-Eater connections. The tall, stringy-looking, dark-haired boy was a bit of a loner, mostly sticking to Tracey during the lessons, but he could be quite charming when he wanted to be, and he had a very dry and warped sense of humor that often had me howling with laughter, much to Harry and Anthony's displeasure.

About two weeks after Hagrid's first lesson, I felt I needed a break from everything inside the castle. As I was heading out, I noticed Ginny Weasley sneaking out with her broom half-hidden under her robes. Curious, I followed her up to the Quidditch pitch, where she was dragging a heavy-looking trunk onto the field.

"Practicing for the Quidditch trials, are you?" I asked, laughing when she fell over in surprise. I only laughed harder when she glared at me, red-faced and looking like a little girl caught playing with her brother's Hot Wheel toys.

"What's it to you?" she asked defensively.

"Nothing," I said nonchalantly, surprising her again. "What position?"

"… Seeker," she mumbled.

"You any good?" I asked.

She seemed really embarrassed to keep talking about it, but she nodded.

"There's been a Weasley on this team since my brother Charlie," she murmured. "I want to keep the tradition alive."

I gave her a smile and said, "Well, let's hope the Quidditch talent isn't only in one half of the family." She looked really surprised I wasn't teasing her and then started laughing along with me.

"Do you play?" she asked.

I shook my head. "Quidditch is a European thing," I said. "I was on my school's Quodpot team, though."

At Ginny's confused look, I explained the rather simple rules (get the Quod into the pot at the other end of the field before it blows up; if it does while in your possession, you're out; whichever team gets more Quods into the pot before one whole team is out ends up winning) and roared with laughter at Ginny's horrified statement of, "It's Quidditch with only Chasers! Are you Americans completely cracked?!"

I made her laugh by telling her about one time I'd purposely passed the Quod to a member of the other team just before it had exploded, taking her out of the game and creating my signature move. Ginny gave me a strange look after the story and quickly picked up what looked like a small, stocky baseball bat, handing it to me. She then opened the trunk and displayed what was inside: the four balls that were used in Quidditch. I saw the red Quaffle with its deep divets that aided the Chasers' grips, the compartment that stored the flighty Golden Snitch, and the two iron Bludgers fighting to break free from their restraints.

"What are you doing, Ginny?" I asked, now a little nervous.

She simply grinned and knelt down to press a finger to a button that released one of the Bludgers.

"Are you insane!?" I asked, immediately prepping myself for the Bludger's approach. It rocketed upwards before shooting down towards me. I gripped the bat with both hands and swung as hard as I could when the Bludger was within reach. To my astonishment, it flew through the lowest ring of the goalposts. I gaped after the Bludger as Ginny cheered beside me.

"Get on the broom!" she cried a second later.

"WHAT?!" I shrieked.

"Get on the bloody broom!" she ordered, shoving me so I had no choice but to sit on the broom to keep the snowy ground from meeting my bum. Knowing what she wanted, I flew upwards and presented myself as a target for the Bludger, which came hurtling towards me. Keeping my left hand on the bat this time, I swung again and hit the middle goalpost, sending a sound not unlike a gong through the empty pitch and almost drowning out Ginny's cheers.

We spent the evening practicing with the Bludger and found that I was not only strong enough to send a 149-pound, solid-iron Bludger about twenty feet from me with a single double-handed swing, but I also had pretty good aim, hitting my intended target about 60% of the time. I wasn't quite ready to join the team, but Ginny decided to make it her mission to get me to that point, in addition to training herself to be the best Seeker to replace Harry. Her favorite part of the training was when she would make me hit the Bludger at her while she was trying to catch the Snitch – I never actually hit her, but I did get close a couple times.

I couldn't help but groan at the idea of Ginny the Drill Sergeant pestering me about this; the two hours I spent with the Bludger made my shoulders and arms ache dully, not to mention leaving me a gasping, sweaty mess. Quodpot was hard enough, but we were trained to focus on speed and accurate throwing, not strength and accurate batting skills. That was saved for baseball and football, which were No-Maj sports to begin with!

I admit, though, it did feel good to hit something and not have to worry about getting in trouble for it. The stress I'd left the castle to escape seemed to be battered away with each resounding _crack_ of the bat hitting the Bludger. Ginny helped even more by telling me to picture the face of someone I hated on the Bludger to make it easier to hit it harder. Despite her jokes of me picturing Umbridge, I put my mother's husband's face on the Bludger to get back at him for all the times he'd hurt me, turning Beater practice into some pseudo-therapy for dealing with my so-called "childhood".

The Saturday of the trials, December 18th, dawned cold and crisp and clear. Ginny and I had practiced every day for a whole month (excluding DA meetings) to get ready for this day, and according to her, we were finally ready. Armed with thick Gryffindor sweaters, stretchy jeans, and Quidditch gloves and boots, we marched onto the field and got ready to show our stuff.

I was almost embarrassed to see how pathetic the other Beater hopefuls were. One kid was so skittish, it was like he'd never seen a Bludger before, let alone hit one! Another kept swinging too soon and ended up hitting himself in the head, knocking himself out halfway through the trials! The rest either couldn't hit hard enough or accurately enough or couldn't stay balanced long enough to swing properly. When I got on the broom, Angelina was so impressed by my accuracy that she ordered the other two Chasers, Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell, into the air to see how good I was at hitting moving targets. I ended up bruising both but refused to hit hard enough to knock them off their brooms, saying I'd save that for the Slytherins. As Fred and George had forced themselves to come to the trials, I had all four Weasleys cheering madly for me by the end of the trial, cementing my position on the team.

"Never seen a girl hit that hard!" Ron cheered after I landed.

"Brilliant, Reggie!" Ginny cried as she hugged me half-to-death in excitement.

Fred and George looked solemnly at each other before bringing their hands out in front of them and bowed deeply, ceremoniously holding out a banged-up Beater's bat.

"We humbly pass the Bat on to you," they said seriously. "May your opponents ever be laid low by your swing!"

Trying hard to not laugh and spoil the moment, I reached out and took the bat in my hands, saying in return, "I accept this Bat and solemnly vow to use it only to bring this team to victory!"

I don't think I've seen the Twins grin that widely since they got banned. With a mischievous twinkle in their eyes, they rushed forward and swooped under me, lifting me onto their shoulders as the crowd laughed at my less-than-dignified yelp of surprise.

I was hard-pressed to remember a time that I felt so much like I belonged as I heard the crowd cheering and laughing and chanting my name in congratulations for making Beater. I finally saw why Harry loved the sport so much – the camaraderie and unity that came from being a part of a team like this was humbling and exhilarating and heartwarming all at once.

The Twins ended up doing the same to Ginny when she was chosen as Seeker. She hadn't been quite as quick as Harry was, but she was the fastest and had the best seat on the broom, so it was an easy pick. The pride on the Weasley boys' faces was almost blinding as they swamped their sister and overwhelmed her with hugs and back slaps and high fives. The shock on her face told me clearly that she hadn't expected them to be so supportive of her, which made me a bit sad, but the speed at which the shock turned to an ear-to-ear grin showed me how much love Ginny had for her brothers.

The Weasley boys marched us up to the kitchens for a celebratory afternoon snack, making sure the elves knew that it was Ginny and me that were the guests of honor. I was pleased to see Winky looking much better, dressed in a proper Hogwarts towel-toga and moving quickly on her feet to deliver a large platter full of pastries and sweets to our table. The beaming smile she gave me when I told her "well done" was another reminder that I'd done something good. I was surprised to learn that Winky had actually made the Peppermint Toads (my favorites) herself; I made sure to compliment her cooking, logging that knowledge away for future reference. Dobby's face almost glowed with pride when he reported that Winky hadn't had a drop of Butterbeer yet, though she'd admitted to coming close quite a few times.

After enjoying the sweets, we hurried upstairs to the Room of Requirement for the last DA meeting we'd have before Christmas break, which I was delighted to learn was a whole three weeks long! When we got there, Harry favored me and Ginny with proud grins as he hurried over to congratulate us on making the team. I made sure to give him a hug when I saw Chang and Anthony looking over at us; no matter how long we'd been training together, I still thought her shallow, selfish, and melodramatic, and him an overly analytical worrywart. They were loyal and brave, I'd give them that, but it wasn't enough to make the picture I had of them any better. I'd noticed their tendency towards jealousy, though, and made sure to play on that as often as I could, hoping to make Chang slip up before Harry plucked up enough courage to ask her out and make Anthony reluctant to try and ask me out.

The meeting was spent going over everything we'd learned up to that point, starting with the Impediment Jinx and the Stunning Spell. I noticed that Tracey had improved drastically, visibly more relaxed as she performed spell after spell, adding a fluidity to her spellwork reminiscent of a whip. She told me later that my focus had greatly improved, saying she almost expected to hear laser-fire when I shot a spell at her. I couldn't help but see Harry's expression as he saw how much everyone had improved; he almost seemed to be swelling with pride as he walked the sidelines, calling out small tips every once in a long while.

At the end of an hour, Harry called a halt and had everyone gather up.

"That's it for this lesson," he said, sounding more and more like a teacher with every speech. "Now, we will not be meeting again until after the holidays, so just keep practicing on your own as best as you can, and … well done, everyone! Great, great work!"

Everyone applauded, grinning a mile wide at the young man who had inspired us to reach just that much higher with his soft-spoken encouragement and his fervent belief in all of us. As everyone started filing out, sending wishes for a Happy Christmas, I noticed Harry slowly making his way towards the back of the room, where Chang was standing at one of the mirrors. It had been turned into a shrine for those who had lost their lives fighting Voldemort, and Cedric Diggory had a rather large patch all to himself.

"Come on, Reggie," Tracey said softly beside me, giving me a sympathetic look as I followed her and Theo (as he insisted on being called) out of the room. We walked in silence for a while until Theo pointed out the obvious.

"He likes 'er."

"Yes," I said tersely.

"… But you like _him_," he surprisingly added, pinning me with his bright blue eyes as he silently dared me to lie and disagree.

I quietly nodded, not quite ready to admit it out loud just yet.

"If 'e gets with 'er," he asked, "what'll you do?"

I felt a sharp pang in my heart as I thought of them kissing and shook my head.

"I don't know," I said.

We were quiet for a while longer before Theo said, "He'd be better off wi' you."

When Tracey and I looked at him in shock, he continued.

"You're gutsy in a way he inn't," he said as if commenting on the weather, "and you're willin' to stand out to take the spotlight off o' him. Besides, he knows that you can take care of ye'self. You're an equal t'him, not a damsel in distress like Chang. He can tell you when you're bein' an idiot, an' he can take the same from you. You build each other up without knockin' ye'self down. Mum and Dad were the same when she was alive."

Tracey got a somber look on her face, as she always did when Theo (rarely) brought up his dead mother, but I started thinking about what Theo had said. I did think I would be better for Harry than Chang would be, but he was so insistent on chasing her that he likely would see any offers from me as either a joke or a way to get Chang to notice him.

"How would we make Potter see that, though?" Tracey asked, looking exasperated with the whole situation. "If he can't see Reggie as someone available for dating –"

"Then we show 'im," Theo said decisively.

"Would you show him?" I asked him, smirking flirtatiously.

"Me?!" he asked in shock. "Not Goldstein?"

I shook my head vehemently. "He thinks too much," I said derisively. "He'd ruin the whole thing!"

"True …" Theo conceded with a nod. He glanced over at Tracey, almost as if asking for permission …

When she almost reluctantly nodded, he turned back to me and held out his hand.

"We only do this in public," he said. "No over-lovey stuff, but enough to be seen as a couple. Deal?"

"Deal," I said, smirking knowingly as I quickly added, "Wouldn't wanna get in between you two lovebirds."

I burst into laughter at their flustered blushing and spluttering denials. I eventually got them to admit they were dating in secret and saw this as a great opportunity to throw Daphne Greengrass off the scent as she was starting to get too close to finding them out and would be likely to tattle to Parkinson if she did. I grinned and said that I'd gladly help them out as this might help me out too. We spent a half-hour more discussing the dos and don'ts of the relationship (nothing past closed-mouth kisses; hand-holding and cheek-kisses were fine in public; and expect lots of notes passed in class) before heading back to our dormitories.

When I got there, the Trio was sitting around the fire, and Harry was sounding almost shell-shocked as he talked to them, confirming my fears for him and Chang.

"She was the one who started it," he said. "I wouldn't've – she just sort of came at me – and next thing she's crying all over me – I didn't know what to do –"

"Don't blame you, mate!" Ron said, looking a bit alarmed.

"You just had to be nice to her," Hermione said anxiously. "You were, weren't you?"

"Well, I sort of … patted her on the back a bit …"

Hermione closed her eyes tightly, I guess in an attempt to keep from rolling her eyes.

"Well, I suppose it could have been worse," she said in a businesslike but still disapproving way. "Are you going to see her again?"

"I'll have to, won't I?" Harry asked. "We've got DA meetings, haven't we?"

"You know what I mean, Harry," Hermione snapped.

Harry said nothing, letting the writhing snakes in my stomach take the opportunity to start worming their way to my heart and biting it. Unable to stand hearing his answer, I quietly moved towards the stairs, pausing when I heard Hermione's voice again.

"Unless of course you don't want to …"

"Oh, come _on_, Hermione!" Ron jumped in, sounding like Hermione's idea was absolutely ridiculous. "Of course he's gonna ask her! He's fancied her for ages, haven't you, Harry?"

The little bitty bites turned to a single, sharp, jagged fang stabbing through my heart at the thought of Harry's answer, and I dropped any sense of quiet as I thundered up the stairs and into the bathroom to bawl my eyes out as I showered. I had no idea why this was hurting so much! I mean, yeah, I liked Harry enough for it to be at least a crush, but getting let down from a simple crush shouldn't hurt this much! I'd been let down from crushes before; they stung badly for maybe a couple months at most and then they went away. They did _not_ feel like getting stabbed in the heart by some nasty snake tooth!

Getting back to the dormitory, I was surprised to see Hermione sitting on her bed, waiting for me.

"She kissed him," she said sadly, as if she knew exactly what I was feeling.

"I guessed that," I said morosely, trudging over to my bed and slipping between the sheets.

We were quiet for a while before I spit out something that had been gnawing at me for a while.

"I lost my chance," I said quietly. "He's only going to see me as one of the guys now."

"No!" Hermione said, hurrying over to me and kneeling down so she could look me in the eye. "We just need to … show him what he's missing."

I looked down at the pillow beneath my head.

"Tracey and Theo have a plan set," I admitted. "I'm going to pretend to date Theo."

"Reggie …" Hermione gasped.

"It won't be real," I said dully. "He's dating Tracey, but he needs a public relationship to throw nosey Greengrass off the scent."

To Hermione's credit, she did seem to be thinking it over instead of going into instant Anger or Panic Mode.

"… Harry won't like this," she said.

"He's not meant to," I grumbled.

"Nott's father is a Death Eater," she reminded me.

"But he's not," I said sternly. "I've seen his wrist, I've asked him about it. He's not a Death Eater and doesn't plan to become one."

"Alright!" Hermione said, her hands up in surrender. "He _is_ intelligent _and_ rather witty, so you won't be bored."

"Thank God!" I said. "If it was Anthony … _ugh!_"

"True," Hermione said, shuddering as I had just done. "And he has signed the list, so he won't betray us."

"He has contingency plans in place in case we get caught," I admitted, "but no, he won't betray us."

Hermione nodded.

"The relationship will benefit you both …" she said slowly, "and you're both agreeing to it … I don't see why it shouldn't happen."

"… Yeah?" I asked, lifting my head from my pillow to give Hermione a hopeful smile.

"It won't work well with Cho," Hermione said in that businesslike and disapproving tone. "She has little to no control over her emotions, and Harry's not equipped to handle it. He can handle small bursts, like what you have, but he won't be able to handle someone who spends half her time crying over a relationship that only lasted six months!"

"Six months?" I asked incredulously. "Dang, you'd think they'd been going out their entire lives, the way she cries over him!"

"Exactly," Hermione said. "So, while he is … getting her out of his system, he needs to be able to see you as someone he can consider an option. The best way to do that, with any boy really, is to get him to see that you are unavailable."

We spent another hour talking over my future relationship with Theo and what Hermione could throw in there to help things along, but after I almost fell off the side of my bed from dozing, we decided to put the chat on pause for tomorrow.

I fell asleep with the hope that tomorrow, everything would go a bit smoother.

Little did I know that things had only started to get bumpy!


	33. Alright

**Chapter Thirty-three:**** Alright**

The next morning, Hermione and I went down to the common room and were surprised by Neville coming up to us instead of Ron and Harry.

"What's wrong, Neville?" Hermione asked, immediately seeing the worried but determined look on Neville's face.

"Harry and Ron are gone," he said in a low voice.

It took every bit of self-control to not screech at him when I asked him to explain.

"Last night," Neville said, sounding more than a little spooked, "Harry had a … a nightmare, I guess. Said he saw Ron's dad being attacked. Wouldn't stop panicking about it."

"Was he?" Hermione asked, immediately worried.

"Dunno," Neville replied. "I went to get McGonagall, she believed him. Took them up to Dumbledore's office but didn't bring them back. I've asked around, and all the Weasleys are gone too."

Hermione's face went almost as white as a ghost's at Neville's words, and my heart wouldn't stop pounding as I thought over everything. If there had been nothing behind Harry's dream, Dumbledore wouldn't have pulled all the Weasleys out of their dorms and sent off to who-knows-where, which means that Mr. Weasley had to have been attacked at some point last night.

But how would Harry have known?

Then I remembered him telling me of the dreams he'd had of Voldemort and Barty Crouch Jr last year. It had turned out that those were actually visions of what had been happening in Voldemort's life at that very moment.

"Did Harry say anything about the dream?" I asked. "Apart from Mr. Weasley getting attacked, I mean."

Neville looked like he was thinking hard.

"He … he said Mr. Weasley had been bitten," he said thoughtfully. "Said there was blood everywhere …"

Then Neville's face went as white as Hermione's.

"He mentioned a snake," he said quietly. "A g-gigantic snake, he said."

I felt the blood drain away from my face as I remembered Harry telling me about the snake Voldemort had. What had her name been …?

"Nagini …" I gasped, drawing Hermione's attention. "Voldemort's snake!"

With that, I spun around and hurried into the hall, heading straight for McGonagall's office with Hermione and Neville on my heels. McGonagall had been the one to take Harry and Ron to the Headmaster, so maybe we could get some answers from her. To my annoyance, there was no response when I pounded on her office door. Just as Hermione and Neville caught up with me, I spun around and asked them,

"Where's Dumbledore's office?"

After some stammered instructions and easily brushed-off questions, I marched off down the hallway that would lead me to Dumbledore. I was fiercely determined to get some answers out of the old man, even if I had to literally pull teeth to do so.

"What's the password?" I asked as I stood in front of the griffin.

"Dunno," Neville gasped, bending over as he fought for breath.

"It's … something candy … related," Hermione wheezed, clutching a stitch in her side.

I immediately started pacing back and forth in front of the griffin, calling out the names of every No-Maj and magical candy I knew and accepting the aid that Neville and Hermione gave me in the form of still more candy names. After nearly five minutes of name-calling, I found out "Fizzing Whizbee" was the password.

I squared my shoulders, raised my chin, and took a deep breath before marching up the moving spiral staircase until I reached the door. I grabbed the door-knocker and hit the door with it so hard that I actually left a shallow imprint in the wood. I hit two more times before the door opened and revealed McGonagall, looking rather harried and sleep-deprived. She took one look at me, flicked her gaze over Hermione and Neville (who were still behind me), and sighed before opening the door further and stepping out of our way.

I marched right up to Dumbledore's desk and looked straight into his electric-blue eyes for the first time since the school year started. He looked even more sleep-deprived than McGonagall, older than dirt, and not-at-all surprised to see me.

"You are here, no doubt," he said kindly, "because of the events that took place early this morning."

"If you mean Harry having another vision about Voldemort and possibly saving Mr. Weasley's life," I snapped as I placed my hands on my hips, "then yes, that's why we're here."

"Another vision?" Dumbledore asked, looking a little perplexed. "He has had others prior to this?"

"Ever since last year," I snarled. "His dreams about Voldemort talking to Wormtail were just like this one! He's been having dreams about a corridor with a locked door at the end of it all year! He mentions them every one or two weeks, but not until we catch him rubbing his scar yet again! Of course, you'd know that if you got your head out of the clouds and down here where it belongs!"

"Miss Dolan!" McGonagall snapped. "Thirty points from Gryffindor for your blatant disrespect!"

"Why should I respect him?!" I snapped back, making her cheeks turn as pink as Umbridge. "Harry was kidnapped by a murdering psychopath, made to watch a friend die in front of him, used as a ritual sacrifice to bring his parents' murderer back from the dead, and then forced to duel said murderer with no guarantee he'd make it back here alive! And instead of listening to him and having faith in him, this man –" I pointed accusingly at Dumbledore. "– forced him to return to the hellhole that was his childhood home and then spent all his time up to now refusing to so much as _look_ at Harry! None of that is deserving of _anyone's_ respect, much less mine!"

McGonagall opened her mouth, no doubt to reprimand me again and take away more points, but to our surprise, Dumbledore interrupted her.

"It saddens me to hear that, Miss Dolan."

I slowly turned and fixed Dumbledore with a look I'd used before, one that said, "I'm listening, but your time is running out."

"Your friendship with Harry is most remarkable," Dumbledore said sadly, "and your passionate and loyal defense of him is inspiring, but your lack of faith in me is saddening and humbling. Forgive me, I am an old man, and my ways may seem questionable to you, but please be assured that I do only what I believe to be best for Harry."

I snorted in derision and folded my arms.

"If you really knew everything Harry has gone through," I scoffed, "you wouldn't dare have put him back with the Dursleys. Those No-Majs do nothing but put him down and make him feel unworthy of the love and respect he finds here. That kind of environment is exactly the opposite of what he needs, and you insist on sending him back every year, despite whatever emotional or mental or physical state he's in at the end of each school year. It's like you want him to get hurt by them, like they're the refiner's fire you'll use to make your secret weapon against Voldemort that much stronger and more willing to work for you.

"You're using Harry to clean up the mess you created, and it makes … me … _sick!_"

With that, I spun around and stormed out of the office, absolutely furious at Dumbledore. Hermione told me later that sparks were flying off of my hair and into the paintings around me, making small cigarette-sized burns wherever they landed. I spent breakfast glaring a hole into my breakfast and sawing my sausages to pieces as I imagined each of them to be Dumbledore's long crooked nose.

No matter what Hermione or Neville said later, I refused to feel sorry for losing Gryffindor points by speaking the truth about my feelings toward Dumbledore. That meddling old goat refused to see Harry as a fifteen-year-old boy who should _never_ have had to go through all of this on his own, and until he did, I would be there to call him out whenever I caught him doing something he shouldn't.

I spent the day out on the Quidditch pitch, putting Dumbledore's face on the Bludger as I hit it harder and harder with each swing. I missed lunch completely, too angry to keep an eye on the time, and got to dinner a sweaty, starving, and still angry mess.

I really had hoped that confronting Dumbledore would help me get some of my anger towards him off my chest, but all it really seemed to do was unleash all the anger I had locked inside and given it permission to run wild and free. It also didn't help that I had no idea where I was going to stay over Christmas Break. I could stay at Hogwarts, but Umbridge would be staying too and I didn't want to spend the best holiday of the year looking at her ugly face. I could just leave Hogwarts for the break, but I didn't know where I would stay. The uncertainty surrounding my location for the next three weeks coupled with my worry for Harry and my frustration towards the adults at this school bundled together and were molded into an emotion I'd become very familiar with: pure, unadulterated anger.

"I've been talking to my parents," Hermione said in her soothingly businesslike voice.

"Yeah?" I asked, knowing Hermione had planned to go skiing with them over the break.

"I've told them," Hermione continued as she buttered a slice of bread, "that everyone who's serious about the OWL exams is staying at Hogwarts to study. They're a bit disappointed, but they want me to do well so they'll understand."

I blinked, surprised Hermione was willingly staying in the same building as Umbridge when she had the option to leave.

"I'm going to catch the Knight Bus to London tomorrow after lunch," Hermione said, still businesslike and crisp as she ignored my ever-growing shock. "I would take it first thing, but they don't start sending the bus around until noon. I'm going to Grimmauld Place to see if Harry and the others are doing well. Care to join me?"

And with that, a rather large chunk of my anger fell away and crumbled into nothing.

I'd be seeing Harry again!

I'd be making sure he was alright!

And I'd get to meet my uncle face-to-face!

"I … yeah!" I said excitedly. "Yeah, I'd love to come!"

"Good," Hermione said, smiling at my enthusiasm as she reached into her robe pocket and drew out a little scroll. "I've talked to Professor McGonagall, and she got you top-secret clearance concerning Grimmauld Place. This is for you," she added, handing me the scroll.

Written on the scroll in very loopy handwriting were these words:

"The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix can be found at 12 Grimmauld Place, London."

I quietly read over them until they were practically seared into my brain before burning the parchment with my wand.

The next day found me and Hermione walking through Hogsmeade while everyone else was boarding the Hogwarts Express. We passed the time by doing some last-minute Christmas shopping. I had already bought a book on the Potter family for Harry, but everyone else had been neglected a little. Over the next few hours, I managed to buy a set of chewable quills for Hermione, who had a chewing habit that only manifested during exams; a pair of Keeper gloves for Ron that had been enchanted to have a much harder grip than normal; a practice Golden Snitch for Ginny; a Quodpot-Ping-Pong set for Fred, who had expressed an interest in the game, mainly because of the exploding ball; a set of Abbot and Costello tapes for George, just in case he and Fred decided to drop the joke shop idea and go into stand-up comedy; a cookbook-journal for Mrs. Weasley for all her recipes; an array of metallic fidget-toy puzzles for Mr. Weasley, to satisfy his No-Maj obsession and the boredom he was probably feeling in the hospital; a radio for Uncle Sirius that could receive magical and No-Maj stations so he could keep up to date with everything going on in both worlds; a goblin-made wax seal kit for Tracey so she could practice writing important letters; and a first edition copy of Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson for Theo, who'd expressed an interest in trying No-Maj literature.

After a nightmarish ride on the Knight Bus, Hermione and I staggered out onto Grimmauld Place. I'm a little ashamed to admit I ended up losing my breakfast in one of the trashcans that lined the street, but that Bus was a freakin' death machine! Why would anyone want to use that thing?!

"Here," Hermione said quietly, offering me a small vial filled with a sunny-yellow potion. "Stomach Soother."

"Thanks," I gasped, spitting into the trashcan before slamming the potion back. I sighed heavily as the potion did its work, easing the queasiness that had plagued me since the Bus started up.

The moment I looked around at my surroundings, I immediately saw which house we needed to go to. It looked much older than the surrounding homes, its windows boarded up and covered in cobwebs.

"Is this …?" I asked, pointing at the house.

"Yes," Hermione said quietly, sensing my excitement and agitation. "Your family home, the house your father grew up in. Come on."

The moment she rang the doorbell, a horrid shrieking came from behind the door. I nearly fell off the step because I jumped so hard at the noise!

"Oh no!" Hermione moaned. "I forgot about Mrs. Black!"

"What?" I asked, more than a little confused.

"There's a painting of your grandmother," Hermione said exasperatedly. "Whenever any unnecessary noise is made in the halls, it wakes her up and she starts screaming the most horrible things at us! It's like living with a banshee – it's awful!"

"Ugh … _lovely_," I groaned just as the door opened, revealing a short, squat woman with red hair and a harried expression on her face.

"Hermione!" she cried, hurrying forward to wrap her arms around Hermione. "How lovely to see you!"

"It's good to see you too, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, returning the hug before bringing the three of us inside. "How's Mr. Weasley?"

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "He's doing better," she said worriedly. "Just tired and unable to come home right away. That awful snake had some strange venom that makes it impossible to stop the bleeding, so they're looking for an antidote right now. They should find it soon. Oh my, who's this?"

She'd just barely noticed me standing next to the door, wanting to leave them some room to chat. I gave her a shaky smile as Hermione introduced me.

"This is Reggie Dolan, Mrs. Weasley," she said. "She's a transfer student, from America. She's a really good friend, especially to Harry!"

"Oh!"

To my surprise, Mrs. Weasley burst into tears and wrapped me in the warmest, clingiest hug I'd ever been in, weeping into my shoulder.

"Oh, you must help him!" Mrs. Weasley wept. "Th-The poor thing … w-won't come d-down! Sh-Shut himself in B-Buckbeak's room, w-w-won't eat, c-can't even … l-look at us! Oh!"

"Wha – Why?!" I asked, suddenly very worried for Harry.

"Th-They were eavesd-dropping on us," Mrs. Weasley said as she stood back and wiped her eyes, "in the hospital. G-Ginny t-told me! They heard M-Moody say th-that … that Harry w-was … _possessed_, by You-Know-Who!"

Hermione and I stared at her for a moment before leaving our bags on the welcome mat and marching upstairs.

"I'll handle Harry," I said. "You get the others together."

"Right," Hermione said, once we got to the first landing. "Meet in Ron and Harry's room. The next floor up, the door on the left."

"Kay," I said. "Where's Buckbeak's room?"

"Top floor," Hermione said. "It's the master bedroom, the only door that doesn't have a plaque on it."

"Thanks!"

With that, I hurried up three more flights of stairs until I came to the top floor. The first door I came to read "The Pad of the Foot: All Non-Marauders Keep Out". I chuckled as I went to the next room, which didn't have a plaque on it.

"Harry?" I called as I knocked on the door. "Hey, it's me! Can … Can I come in?" I hated sounding timid, but I somehow sensed that allowing Harry some measure of control would help the situation tremendously.

I waited for a few tense moments before adding, "I'm not leaving this landing until we talk, Harry. So … either I come in, or you come out! Your choice!"

I was rewarded by seeing the door open, revealing Harry's face. The poor guy looked like Death warmed over! His face was ash-colored, he had massive bags under his haunted eyes, and his hair looked like he'd been yanking it out while undergoing electric-shock therapy.

Giving him a quick once-over, I saw wrinkled clothes that had bits of straw and … something else stuck to them and overly red hands that were currently still rubbing themselves raw, like Harry was trying to wash something off of them and was still failing at it long after the water had been turned off. I quickly reached out and grabbed his wrists, pulling them apart as I held his hands at my sides. I couldn't help but notice Harry's flinch when I reached for him, but he didn't pull away from me when I was touching him.

"What are you _doing_ here, Reg?" Harry asked, staring at me as if I was at once salvation and damnation. "I thought …"

"What, that I'd be staying in the same building as the Toad Queen?" I chuckled. "Nah, if I have the option to leave, I'll leave, thanks very much! What are _you_ doing here? Now, _that's_ the real question! Mrs. Weasley's worried sick about you! She burst into tears when Hermione said I was a good friend of yours and all but begged me to help you!"

Shame and regret flooded Harry's entire being. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to pull away from me, but I held on tightly and yanked back to stop Harry in his tracks.

"It's not your fault, Harry!" I said firmly. "None of what's happened to the Weasley family is your fault! If anything, you've saved three members so far! They should be thanking you for what you've done for them!"

"But they shouldn't be!" Harry cried, his voice anguished and tormented. "It's because of me that they were even in those situations in the first place!"

"So … you asked Malfoy Senior to put a cursed diary in Ginny's cauldron?" I asked. "You asked Ron to make that kamikaze chess move, to nearly get crushed by thousand-year-old rock, to nearly get his leg bitten off by a feral dog, to deal with your PTSD crap? You asked Mr. Weasley to get bitten by a bloody snake? You asked them to go through all that?"

"I … no, but I –"

"Then it didn't happen because of you!" I said fervently. "Yes, they've gone through awful situations, but not one of those situations was because of you! You told me the whole story, so you can't tell me I don't know anything about all that!"

"But Reggie, I … no, no I can't –"

"Yes, you can, Harry!" I said, putting a hand to Harry's cheek to make him look right at me. "Tell me!"

Harry took a deep breath and pulled me close, pressing his forehead to mine as he held my waist tightly. He seemed terrified that I'd run screaming from him if he admitted his secret to me.

"… When I was … when I saw Mr. Weasley attacked, I wasn't just watching," he said, whispering his words with an air of confessing a grave sin. "…I was the snake. And afterwards, in Dumbledore's office, there was a moment when I … I wanted – to …"

He broke off, panting as if he was trying to control his temper. Up to that point, my hands had been resting on his upper arms, just below his shoulders. As he tried to compose himself, I reached up with one hand and began stroking the hair at the back of his head, making Harry let out a shaky breath before continuing.

"There's this … connection between me and Voldemort," he said. "What if the reason for it is I'm becoming more like him? I just feel … so _angry_ … all the time and … what if after everything that I've been through … what if something's gone wrong inside me? What if I'm becoming bad?"

I couldn't take any more of it. I immediately grabbed Harry's face in my hands and made him look right at me, saying,

"Stop it! Stop it right now!" I paused for a moment before saying, "I want you to listen, _very carefully_, Harry. Can you do that?"

Harry nodded, his tear-filled eyes pleading with me to say something to keep him from going over the edge. He was really terrified of what was happening in his head and badly needed something to keep him from declaring his own mind as the enemy. I really hoped what I was about to say would help.

"You. Are not. A bad. Person!" I said firmly. "You, Harry Potter, are a very good person! One of the best people I've ever met! I mean it!" I added when I saw that Harry was about to count it out. "It's just … a lot of really bad things have happened to you! That's all! Look, look at me! Really bad things have happened to me, and I have an awful temper and I _hurt_ people all the time because of that temper. Does that make me a bad person?"

"No!" Harry cried, looking horrified at the idea. "No, you're not bad!"

"Then neither are you!" I said. "There's something you need to know about all really bad people – they all believe they're the heroes! They're not worried about being bad because they know they're right, no matter what they're doing! The really good people are those who are aware of the darkness inside them and either shove it away or use it only when it's needed. They never let the darkness define or control them, and _that_ is what makes them really good people. You can feel the darkness in you, and you're worried about it taking hold of you. The fact that you're so scared of becoming bad shows that you are not bad, that you're the exact opposite of bad!

"You are a good man, Harry Potter!" I concluded. "And I will tell you this over and over until I'm blue in the face, as long as you believe me in the end!

"Alright?"

Harry looked into my eyes for the longest time, nothing but relief and gratitude shining his eyes. He took a deep breath and wrapped me up in a desperately, almost painfully tight embrace.

"Alright," he whispered, finally seeming to see sense.


	34. Meeting the Family

**Chapter Thirty-four:**** Meeting the Family**

I managed to coax Harry into coming down to his room, where Hermione was waiting with Ron and Ginny. Each used their own tactics to persuade Harry that he hadn't been at fault for Mr. Weasley's accident. Hermione listed reason after logical reason, Ron told Harry he hadn't left his bed from the moment the nightmare started, and Ginny told him what it was really like when Voldemort possessed you. All in all, we managed to drill it into his head that he wasn't at fault and that he should be happy that he even had the vision in the first place.

After enjoying the afternoon snack Mrs. Weasley had sent up with Hermione, we made our way downstairs to let everyone know that Harry had once again returned to the land of the living.

"Part of me wants to make a big stink about all this," I muttered as I went downstairs arm-in-arm with Harry.

"Please don't …" Harry moaned, but unfortunately for him, Ginny happened to be right below us on the stairs and heard every word. Wearing a grin reminiscent of the twins, she grabbed Hermione and Ron's hands and tugged them downstairs to the kitchens. We heard them whispering as we got to the kitchen doors and were met by three Cheshire-Cat grins when we got to them.

Ever the martyr, Harry heaved a long-suffering sigh and said, "Fine, go ahead."

Still wearing those grins, Ron and Hermione each grabbed a doorknob and pulled the French doors open to reveal an unusually-serious-looking Ginny.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" she called out at the kitchen, which had only four people in it. "I present to you, the new … and improved … Harry Potter!"

To my delight, Fred and George stood up and began applauding raucously as Harry and I walked in, still arm-in-arm. I managed to get out of the way just as a teary-eyed Mrs. Weasley hurried over to give Harry a massive hug that almost popped his eyes right out of their sockets. He simply gave her a sheepish grin and hugged her back.

"Reggie Dolan!"

I spun around at the aristocratic drawl to see my uncle grinning delightedly at me.

"Uncle Sirius!" I cried in glee, racing towards him and throwing my arms around his neck. I was even happier when he hugged me so tightly that he lifted me off the ground and proceeded to spin me around until I was hopelessly dizzy. The entire time, we were howling with laughter, so utterly overjoyed to finally meet face-to-face.

"Here, step back, let me look at you!" Uncle Sirius said, stepping back to hold me at arms'-length as he looked me up and down. He grinned so widely that I thought his cheeks would split!

"Merlin, you're beautiful!" he gushed. "Regulus's cheeks, jaw, ears, and mouth; my hair and laugh; and your mum's eyes! How many boys do I need to fight off?"

I let out a bark-like laugh, realizing the perfect opening to introduce Theo and Tracey's plan.

"Most guys can't handle all of this, Uncle Sirius," I chuckled, gesturing down at myself.

"Only most?" he asked, seeming to know what I was thinking. "Who's the guy who can?"

I smiled up at him and said, "He's more than a little sarcastic, but he's really witty and so insanely smart! He doesn't have a whole lot of friends, but that way, I won't have to share him with anyone!"

"Ha! That's my girl!" Sirius laughed, pulling me to his side to mess up my hair. "So, what's his name?"

I was now aware of the reactions of everyone else in the room. Harry was almost blatantly eavesdropping on us; Hermione was whispering conspiratorially to Ron, who looked horribly confused; Mrs. Weasley looked confused but accepting; the Twins looked like we'd hit them over the head with a cauldron; and Ginny looked as if she'd known about my relationship with Uncle Sirius all along.

Smirking slyly, I leaned up and whispered in Uncle Sirius's ear, "It's actually Harry, but I'm making him think it's my friend Theo cuz Harry's all into Cho Chang."

To his credit, Uncle Sirius only raised an eyebrow as I drew back.

"And this young man is behaving himself?" he asked ambiguously.

"Oh, yeah!" I snorted. "I'd have him on his ass if he wasn't!"

"Language," Hermione called out languidly from the table, where she was sharing a private smirk with Ginny. I simply stuck my tongue out at her, making Uncle Sirius laugh again as he guided me to the table with his arm around my shoulders.

"Anybody mind –"

"– Telling us –"

"_– What the bloody hell is going on?_"

Hermione and I laughed at Fred and George's twin freak-out moment. To my surprise, Uncle Sirius stood up and raised the goblet Mrs. Weasley had just filled for him.

"I would like to propose a toast," he said in a strangely genteel voice, sounding almost like a lord or something for a moment. "Firstly, to Mr. Harry Potter, for finally showing his ugly mug –"

"_Hey!_" I laughed, backhanding Uncle Sirius's stomach and nearly making him drop the glass as he laughed.

"– Taking the mick, relax! – and secondly, to the newest member of our little rebellion, Miss Regina Dolan, also known as My Favorite Niece!"

"Your _only_ niece, Padfoot!" I quipped after everyone had raised their glasses to Harry and me. I nearly choked on my drink when Fred and George did a simultaneous spit-take.

"What'd you call him?!" Fred asked, looking decidedly starstruck.

"Padfoot," I said casually. "Y'know, one of the four Marauders, the greatest and most knowledgeable pranksters Hogwarts has ever known."

"You're making me blush, princess!" Uncle Sirius chuckled, only to stop cold when Fred and George hurried over and fell to their knees in front of him.

"You're serious?" George asked in awe.

"Indeed I am," Uncle Sirius smirked, making me snort when I realized the pun he'd just pulled.

Everyone around the table burst into laughter as Fred and George began to kowtow to my uncle, chanting "We are not worthy, we are not worthy!"

To my delight, Uncle Sirius played along tremendously! He simply smirked and asked the twins what they have done to follow in his "illustrious pawprints". The twins proceeded to spend the whole dinner going over their most impressive pranks, much to their mother's horror. The evening was full of laughter and the best food I'd had in a long time. The only annoying thing I had to worry about was Harry giving me what he thought was furtive looks. No doubt he was trying to find out who my secret beau was, but I figured why ruin a perfectly good night by introducing a new rival?

The next few days were full of cleaning and decorating amid thunderous caroling from Uncle Sirius. It was incredible to be around another member of my family who didn't make me feel … less in any way. Uncle Sirius was so blindingly happy to have guests over for Christmas that he seemed single-mindedly determined to give us the best Christmas experience we'd ever had.

By the time Christmas Eve rolled around, the house wasn't even recognizable! The tarnished, cobwebbed chandeliers were sparkling and covered in holly and streamers; magical snow that was used in many indoor snowball fights coated the hallway floors; a ginormous Christmas tree was set up in the center of the drawing room and decorated with live fairies in addition to handmade ornaments that we spent a whole afternoon making out of odds and ends found around the house; and even the house-elf heads that littered the hallways wore Santa Clause hats and beards! Uncle Sirius got a real kick out of hanging ornaments from the long, thin noses of some of them.

On Christmas Eve, I was exploring the newly cleansed drawing room and saw something that made me so excited: a gigantic tapestry featuring a family tree that listed each member of my father's family up until the Middle Ages! It was moth-eaten and dingy and had a few holes in it, but I could see so much more history in that tapestry than I'd known even existed in my family.

"Where's Dad?" I asked when Uncle Sirius came up to me a while later.

"Down here," he said in a strangely dull voice, nudging a place near the bottom of the tree. I knelt down and, sure enough, right next to a mark that looked like the remains of a cigarette burn was my dad's name as well as the years of his birth and death.

"Regulus Arcturus Black," I read quietly. "He was … what, only 18?"

"Yeah," Sirius said quietly. I could almost hear a twinge of regret in his voice, but I decided to not call him on it.

"We need to get you on this tree," he said unexpectedly, rummaging around in his pocket. "Molly! Come here a moment!"

"What?" I asked. "How are we going to do that?"

"With this," Sirius said simply, holding up a thin knife that seemed to be made out of …

"Is that obsidian?" I asked warily as Mrs. Weasley walked in, looking curious.

"Symbolic of self-control, resilience, and protection," Sirius said, gently taking my right hand in his left. "Don't worry," he said as he gently pressed the blade to my middle finger. "I only need a drop or two. Molly, if you would stand in as witness."

Without waiting for Mrs. Weasley's answer, he cut into the pad of my middle finger and squeezed with his left hand to bring some blood to the surface. I was in almost too much shock to flinch at the pain and confusion.

"I, Sirius Orion Black," he said solemnly, "current head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, do hereby recognize Regina Galadriel Dolan as my brother's daughter and my niece. I also hereby recognize her as my heir and declare that she shall inherit my position and my earthly possessions after I pass on. So will I, so mote it be."

"So witness I, Molly Igraine Prewett Weasley, so mote it be!" Mrs. Weasley said, sounding just as solemn as Uncle Sirius had been a moment ago.

To my surprise, the drop of blood on my finger turned gold as Mrs. Weasley finished speaking. Uncle Sirius carefully guided my finger to the tapestry and gently pressed the blood to a spot just below Dad's name. To my surprise, the tapestry began to glow golden as we backed away.

When the golden shine dimmed, the tapestry hung before us renewed. The holes had been repaired and replaced by names and dates that were now done in gold thread. The dingy and threadbare fabric was now thick and vibrant with expensive thread and extravagant patterns. And, best of all, my own name and birth-date was now on the tapestry, connected to Dad's name by a thick golden line. Mom's name wasn't on the tapestry – I assume because the marriage wasn't recognized – but I barely blinked at that.

I grinned a mile wide as I realized what had just happened.

I had been all but officially adopted into the Black Family.

"We'll need to get this officially recognized by someone at the Ministry," Sirius said, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. "Then, you're one of us!"

"That will have to wait until your name is cleared," Mrs. Weasley said bracingly. "If anyone else tries to get her into the family, it will raise too many eyebrows. If you try it now, it will raise almost every wand in the Ministry!"

"I know, I know, Molly," Sirius said before turning to me. "Welcome to the family, princess! Happy Christmas!"

I immediately wrapped my arms around his waist and buried my face in his chest to hide how much this truly meant to me. Uncle Sirius seemed to get the message, though, and wrapped his arms around me, holding me as I imagined a father would hold his little girl.

I didn't care what else I got for Christmas. I got the best uncle in the world and a lineage that would no doubt horrify me while making me proud to belong to them.

What more could a girl want?


	35. Won't Know What Hit 'Em

**Chapter Thirty-five:**** Won't Know What Hit 'Em**

I spent the night of Christmas Eve wrapped up in the blanket-pillow-fort that Ginny, Hermione, and I had made. We stayed up until just past midnight, gossiping and scheming and bearing our hearts to each other.

I felt a little uncomfortable with Ginny when she admitted that she'd had a crush on Harry all growing up, but then she confessed that she was starting to see him more as a brother than anything else. When Hermione and I asked her who her new crush was, she turned the same color as a strawberry and refused to say a word, instead bringing the topic to my own crush on Harry and my plan to get him to notice me. It turns out Ginny's many boyfriends were the product of a similar strategy to my own, but she'd mainly chosen boys that Harry didn't really notice so it hadn't bothered him in the way she'd originally hoped. She commended me on my guts at getting a Slytherin to be my fake boyfriend, saying she'd never be able to do that.

Then Ginny told me about how people used to think that Harry and Hermione had been a thing, and things got _really_ weird! Hermione kept saying that she thought of Harry as her brother, but she kept turning pink when she talked to Ginny. I guessed it was because Hermione was really into Ginny's brother Ron and couldn't quite tell her yet while keeping a straight face.

Christmas morning found us still in the fort, our heads in the middle and our feet pointing outward like a three-pointed star. Our presents were stacked on our beds, which quickly ended up full of gift wrapping and tissue paper and ribbon as we tore into the pile. I got a monogrammed black-and-red sweater from Mrs. Weasley, the one she'd been working on almost non-stop since I came to Grimmauld Place six days earlier. From Fred and George, I got a complete set of Skiving Snackboxes, which featured stickers that said "This product was not tested on anyone under the age of seventeen", which made me smile. From Ginny, I got a pair of steam-punk-looking Quidditch goggles that would help me see clearly in any weather. Ron got me a poster of his favorite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons. Hermione got me a book about my father's family, much like the one I'd gotten for Harry. Harry got me a leather jacket that he'd had Professors McGonagall and Flitwick lace with protective charms, which made me blush a little at his protectiveness. Uncle Sirius got me something I hadn't even thought about getting – a Firebolt, just like Harry's, except it had hazel twigs in the tail instead of birch like in Harry's; according to the pamphlet that came with the broom, birch twigs gave the broom more "oomph" when ascending while hazel twigs allowed for more precision when turning.

The two surprises I got were from my Slytherin friends – even Hermione and Ginny stopped opening their gifts to see what I'd gotten from them. Tracey sent me a record set for "West Side Story", a Broadway play that was actually set in my neighborhood back in New York. Theo's gift was in a simple ring box clamped around a letter. The ring inside the box was a delightfully simple snake made out of yellow metal with white and black gems making up the scales and eyes. Theo's letter was written on high-quality parchment and had a return address somewhere in Bristol. It read:

_Dear Regina,_

_I hope this letter finds you having a very Happy Christmas. It's been dreadfully boring here by myself. He's normally so busy with various merchants coming in and out of Bristol that he rarely is home for Christmas. If there were any way we could meet up before going back to Hogwarts, I would be indebted to you!_

_The ring has no doubt attracted your attention by now. It's a small family heirloom, likely belonging to my mother or grandmother at some point. In case you're wondering, the ring is fourteen karat gold with forty-four white and two black diamonds. I actually had it appraised in a Muggle jewelry shop, and they said it was worth £420, which is about $550, I believe. Don't worry, I made certain this ring gives you much more than a pretty jewel for your finger. It has protective enchantments laced into each jewel, allowing you to deflect most offensive spells and consume foods with minor poisons without harm._

_I'm not giving this to you as a romantic gift, though you can tell everyone that I am. I've been hearing whispers around some of the older Slytherins about targeting you for an ambush at some point. You may not be my type romantically, but you are one of the few people I can call "friend" and I will do everything I can to protect you. The ring's protection isn't infallible, however, so make sure to always go about Hogwarts with at least one companion and keep your wand in an easy-to-reach place at all times._

_Owl me as soon as you can to set up a meeting in London somewhere. You can tell everyone that it's a "date", but I really just need to get out of the house before I start using the portraits for company._

_Wishing you Happy Holidays,_

_I remain,_

_Theodore Nigellus Nott_

_Heir Apparent of House Nott (bloody hell, you don't care)_

My eyes almost bugged out of my head when Theo mentioned how much the slender ring was worth, but the description of protective enchantments on the ring made my stomach sour slightly. That feeling went away at Theo's declaration of friendship, and the warmth in my belly became a laugh at how Theo was almost begging for some human contact sometime between now and the end of Break.

The girls and I spent about an hour opening and comparing and thanking each other for gifts before getting dressed in the sweaters Mrs. Weasley knitted for us. Ginny was in red and gold horizontal stripes with a black "G", Hermione was in pink with brown dots and a white "H", and I was in solid red with black trim around the hems and in the "R" on the front. It actually felt really soft and warm, not at all like the awful scratchy sweaters I'd heard about. Hermione helped me roll my sleeves up and told me to hold up my right hand as much as possible to show off Theo's ring.

When we left to go downstairs, I noticed the wrapped present Hermione held in her arms.

"Who's that for?" I asked as Harry and Ron joined us.

"Kreacher," Hermione said with a smile.

"It had better not be clothes," Ron warned. "You know what Sirius said, Kreacher knows too much, we can't set him free!"

"It isn't clothes," Hermione said bracingly. "It's a patchwork quilt, I thought it would brighten up his bedroom."

"What bedroom?" Harry asked as we passed Grandmother's portrait. As they continued on, I walked up to the curtains and said quietly, "Merry Christmas, Grandmother!" I got a contented hum from behind the curtain for my troubles, and I hurried off to the kitchen, where the others were looking in a cupboard off of the kitchen, where a boiler was stored. I walked up behind them and shuddered at what I saw. Kreacher had apparently made himself a nest out of rags and smelly old blankets that probably hadn't been washed in decades. In a corner behind the boiler, I saw something shining in the light we were letting in to the cupboard.

"What's that back there?" I asked.

Harry leaned forward to see and said solemnly, "Things that Sirius wanted thrown away."

"Thrown away?!" I repeated. "Like what?!"

"Basically anything to do with the family," Ron said. "He wants to purge the place."

I frowned at Sirius's rather immature attempt to get rid of things that had _loads_ of history because they were connected to the family he didn't want to be a part of. I looked over Harry's shoulder and saw rings, seals, old artifacts, and even photos held in silver frames and shattered glass. One particular picture seemed to be Kreacher's favorite: one of a glamorously beautiful but haughty-looking woman with dark curls and heavy-lidded eyes. There was something about her that was kinda familiar, though …

"Hey, guys," I mused. "That woman, do you think … she looks a bit like me?"

Hermione immediately began perusing my features and those of the woman, Ron looked really confused and looked at me like I was crazy, and Harry gave a slight shrug as he glanced at her and me.

"She looks … related," Hermione said, "but not enough to have a direct relation. Her jaw is broader than yours, and her eyes are smaller. I wonder how you're related …"

"She's Sirius's cousin," Harry said. "Bellatrix Lestrange. She's a Death Eater, she's in Azkaban right now."

I felt a little chill run down my spine as I wondered what that meant about Kreacher that he obviously loved her so much that he would mend the shattered glass over her photo and put it up front where he could see it as he fell asleep.

"I think I'll just leave his present here," Hermione said uncomfortably as she put the quilt on top of the nest and shooed us out of the cupboard before closing the door.

"Just curious," Uncle Sirius said as he came out of the pantry carrying a massive turkey, "has anyone actually seen Kreacher lately?"

"I haven't seen him since the night we came back here," Ginny said as she followed him in with some spices and vegetables. "You were ordering him out of the kitchen."

"He couldn't have left, could he?" Harry asked, suddenly looking anxious. "I mean, when you said 'out', maybe he thought you meant 'get out of the house'?"

"No, no, house-elves can't leave unless they're given clothes," Sirius said confidently. "They're tied to their family's house."

"Didn't Dobby leave the Malfoys to warn you?" I asked Harry, remembering Harry's stories.

Harry nodded. "He had to punish himself afterward, but he managed it."

I hummed in disapproval. "Very Slytherin of that critter," I said. "What exactly did you say, Uncle Sirius?"

"… I just said 'out'," Uncle Sirius said, looking more and more worried.

I frowned before remembering Winky and the promise I'd made her.

"Well, if he has left," I said, "I know a certain little elf who would love to have a place here!"

"Oh yeah?" Uncle Sirius asked as everyone except Harry gave me a confused look. "Who?"

"Her name's Winky," I said, ignoring Hermione's affronted gasp. "She was let go by … uh, Mr. Crouch, I think, and she has expressed a desire to come here. She says she knows Kreacher, that he's not keeping the house clean and not honoring his master. She actually said he doesn't keep secrets well."

"And does she keep secrets?" Uncle Sirius asked.

"We tried last year," Harry said. "We asked about Mr. Crouch, but we couldn't get anything out of her, even when she was drunk."

"Drunk?" Uncle Sirius asked, sounding a little disappointed.

"She's getting better at that, actually," I said quickly. "I saw her a week ago, and she said she hadn't had a drop of butterbeer since she told us about the Room of Requirement. She's a really good cook, too! She made these little Peppermint Toads, and they were amazing! I think she'd do well here; she could work with Kreacher until he finally kicked the bucket, and then she'd take his place."

Uncle Sirius looked at me searchingly for a moment before nodding.

"That actually sounds like a good idea," he said. "Not to mention she could keep an eye on Kreacher for me, make sure he wasn't sneaking out."

"She'd do that in a heartbeat if it meant she'd have someone to serve," I said before nervously glancing over at Hermione. "Maybe you could, um …talk to her about payment for her service? Maybe start at what Dumbledore's offered Dobby: a Galleon a week and one day off a month! That way, she won't be enslaved to you but she can still work here!"

To his eternal credit, Uncle Sirius nodded slowly as he considered the idea.

"It's not like I can't afford to pay her," he said musingly. "If she's willing to work here, I could definitely do that!"

"Thank you!" I cried, grinning from ear to ear as I ran to give him a hug. "You won't regret this, Uncle! Trust me!"

"If it gets you to smile like that, I don't think I will!" he said, squeezing me tight. "How'd you like the broom, princess?"

"It's beautiful!" I gushed excitedly. "I can't _wait_ to see how she flies!"

"What'd he get you?" Harry asked.

"A Firebolt," I said with a grin, "with hazel twigs instead of birch, like yours!"

"Brilliant!" Harry said, grinning as widely as I was. "At least there will still be a Firebolt on the team!"

"Oh, the other teams won't know what hit 'em!" I chuckled as I gave Uncle Sirius an extra squeeze.

"Princess, forget about the other teams!" Uncle Sirius chuckled. "The world won't know what hit 'em!"


	36. Ghosts of the Past

**Thanks so much to everyone who has been so patient with me during these past few months! Starting today, we'll be all caught up with everything and can get on with the story!**

**Big shout-out to my reviewers: AFineMess101, NatNicole, HarleyQuinnSuperWhoLockHP, and alldifferentallsame!**

**Also - if you go on Polyvore and look up username "ambercj13", you will find an entire board of outfits, all inspired by Reggie Black and put together by alldifferentallsame! I can't tell you how thrilled I was to see it, and I'm actually going to use some of these outfits in my story! The snake ring from Chapter 36 is from the outfit called "Operation make Harry jealous with Christmas presents from 'bae'"!**

**Thanks again, everyone, and as always: read, enjoy, and review!**

**-Owlix**

Chapter Thirty-Six: Ghosts of the Past

We spent lunch talking over gifts received and thanking the various givers. Harry and Ron thanked Hermione for their magical homework planners rather begrudgingly; when I asked her why I hadn't gotten one, she told me it was because I had always tried to stay on top of my homework and didn't really need one. In turn, Hermione thanked Ron for the "really unusual" perfume and Harry for the copy of New Theory of Numerology and me for the chewable quills. Ron thanked me for the Keeper gloves I'd gotten him, and Harry gave us a few laughs about the information he'd found out about his family tree from the book I'd given him. Apparently, Harry was actually named after his father's grandfather, Henry Potter, and James's father was called "Fleamont", of all things!

"Please tell me they called him 'Monty' or something!" I gasped upon hearing the name.

"His wife Euphemia did," Uncle Sirius said with a grin, "but his friends all called him 'Flea'. Apparently he was prone to leaping into action whenever he got angry, especially when he was in school."

"Well, that certainly reminds me of someone," Hermione said with a sideways look at an innocent-looking Harry, much to everyone's amusement.

"Where'd that name even come from?" Ginny asked, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

"It was his … dad's grandmother's maiden name," Sirius said, thinking hard. "Apparently she wanted the name perpetuated and – on her death-bed, I might add – she made Grandpa Harry promise to name one of his children 'Fleamont'."

"Well, thank God they never had a girl," I remarked, making all the other girls shudder at the idea.

"Probably would've put it as a middle name if that was the case," Uncle Sirius said.

It wasn't long after that when Mrs. Weasley noticed my ring and asked who had given that to me.

"Theo, a boy from school," I said with a slightly nervous smile. "He said it's got loads of protective enchantments on it."

"Well, isn't that sweet?" Mrs. Weasley gushed. "And it's such a lovely ring. Pity about the shape, though."

"Well, he is a Slytherin," I said with a nonchalant shrug. "I guess this is his way of staking a claim on me or something."

"A Slytherin?" Fred asked in amazement.

"_Slithering_ over to the Dark Side, are we?" George asked teasingly, giving me a sly wink.

"Uhh, it's actually more like converting a sinner than corrupting a saint," I replied with a smirk.

"But who's the saint?" Ginny asked with an equally playful smirk. "You or Nott?"

The girls, the Twins, and I all burst into laughter as I leaned over to give Ginny a high-five.

"Nott?!"

I looked over at Harry, who looked somewhere between confused and angry.

"You're dating Nott?!" he asked.

I felt a slight pit form in my stomach at the look of betrayal in his eyes before remembering that Harry only liked me as a friend and that Theo only liked me as a friend. I wasn't doing anything wrong here, so I wouldn't be cowed by that emerald glare.

"Not officially yet," I said with another shrug, "but I'm guessing he's getting close to making a move. He wants to meet up later on during the break. Would that be alright?" I asked Uncle Sirius, who looked rather pensive.

"… As long as you stay close and don't mind one of the Order trailing you, I don't see why not."

Let's just say, Harry was not amused.

Not long after lunch was cleaned up, two wizards came to the front door in order to escort us to St. Mungo's, where Mr. Weasley was staying. Harry's stories about them had painted them so vividly that I knew instantly who was there: Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody and Remus Lupin. I stood back and grinned at them, thinking that Harry had described them perfectly.

"How'd this one get past security?" Mad-Eye asked, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at me as he talked to Uncle Sirius.

"By being related to me," Uncle Sirius said proudly as he marched over to swing an arm around my shoulders. "Mad-Eye, Moony old man, this is my niece, Reggie Dolan."

"Nice to meet you," I said, holding my hand out to shake. "Harry's told me loads about you both!"

"Has he?" Remus asked, seeming a little worried as he smiled in a friendly way.

"Yeah, like where he spent the majority of last year," I said, pointing over at Mad-Eye, who glared ferociously at me, "and what Professor Snape brewed for you and why during Harry's third year," I said to Lupin, who paled a couple shades.

"Don't worry, I'm not telling anyone," I said, holding my hands up. "I wanted to know what I was getting into by becoming Harry's friend, and he decided to tell me everything."

"She's a good friend," Harry said firmly, surprising me by coming over to stand by me. "She's brave, she's smart, and she's really loyal. She's a lot like Sirius, actually. I trust her."

Mad-Eye and Lupin peered closely at me for a bit, but then Lupin just shrugged and welcomed me to the group. Mad-Eye still didn't trust me, but then again, he didn't really trust anyone so I didn't take it personally.

We were apparently going to leave in a car that had been "borrowed" by a stinkball named Mundungus Fletcher, who'd apparently disguised himself as a witch to spy on our first DA meeting. In addition to being smelly and downright sleazy, he kept eyeing the family heirlooms like he was weighing its worth versus the possibility of getting caught. Once I realized that, I pulled him into the hall and upstairs a way to tell him in no uncertain terms that he wasn't welcome to take so much as a Black Family toothpick and that if he tried, I'd slowly cut out all his guts and hang him from the Whomping Willow with them.

"I don't care how valuable everything is," I snarled, getting right in his face. "It's my family and my stuff, and you don't have any right to it. You got me?!"

"Yeah, yeah," he sniveled, sounding like he'd pissed in his pants.

"Good," I said. "Now get back into the kitchen, and don't you dare tell anyone what I just said!"

"Course not, Miss Black!" he whimpered, sidling downstairs. "Of course not!"

After he shut the door, I leaned against the wall to catch my breath and calm down. If Harry or Uncle Sirius noticed, they'd get all protective of me, and I didn't need that kind of scene made on Christmas.

"You've got the Black Family temper," I heard a creaky voice say.

I looked up and found myself looking straight into the dark gaze of my grandmother, Walburga Black. Her steel-gray hair was tied up in a proper-looking coif and topped off with a dour black cap. When I looked, I realized her whole outfit was black, from her 1950s ankle-length dress to the gloves on her hands, like she was in mourning. Then I remembered that she'd lost her husband, Grandpa Orion, the same year she'd lost Dad.

"I … guess I came by it honestly, then," I said awkwardly.

"Hmph!" Grandmother said snootily. "Well, that doesn't help your posture! Stand up straight, shoulders back, chin up high! And just look at what you're wearing! Trousers?! And ones so tight they're starting to tear at the knees! Good Merlin, child! You're a member of the most prestigious pure-blood family in Great Britain! At least look the part if you insist on carrying our good Name around! Didn't your mother teach you how to be a lady?!"

I was definitely not in the mood for this kind of treatment. I'd just found out I was related to an infamous Death Eater (a real one, anyway), gotten almost-interrogated by two of Harry's mentors, and threatened a sneak-thief with a world of pain. I was not going to stand here and take this from someone who shouldn't have been around to care anymore.

"Grandmother," I said with a heavy-lidded sneer that even Malfoy would've been proud of, "I know the Black Family Name actually meant something in your day, but it's lucky if it's mud these days. With the Death Eaters and pure-blood supremacists this family's created, it's a wonder it's even still around. Besides, the family's not even pure-blood anymore!"

"WHAT?!" Grandmother shrieked, her dark eyes nearly bugging out of her head.

"Mother was No-Maj-born," I said calmly, mentally reminding myself that this was just a painting and couldn't hurt me. "I'm a half-blood, and I'm heir to everything in this house and who-knows-what else. Uncle Sirius has welcomed me in officially, so there's nothing you can do about it now."

"Uncle … Sirius?!" she gasped. "You don't mean to tell me you're …"

"Regulus's daughter," I said proudly.

To my surprise, Grandmother seemed to wilt inside the painting, resting a hand against her forehead as she leaned against the side of the painting.

"How could my family have come to this?" she asked weakly. "Regulus was such a good child … always knew his place in the world … had such pride in his blood …"

"You can be proud of who you are without putting others down for not being the same as you," I said pragmatically. "My guess is that's what Dad thought when he fell in love with Mom."

The look on Grandmother's face reminded me of an old woman I'd met on the streets of New York once. She'd had a bad attack of dementia and couldn't seem to realize where or when or even who she was. That look of loss and confusion was painfully echoed in Grandmother's wrinkled face as she stared at me.

I sighed and took pity on her.

"This family is being rebuilt," I said quietly, "from the ground up. We're reestablishing ourselves as people of bravery."

"Bravery?" Grandmother sniffed weakly. "Sounds like a gaggle of Gryffindors!"

"It's what the world needs now," I said with a shrug. "During the years where the world needed to hold onto its traditions, a Slytherin mindset was needed. Now that someone is trying to force their own views on us, we need to adapt into Gryffindors, and Uncle Sirius and I are the ones who are going to show the world what Gryffindor Blacks can do. If the Black Family wants to survive, that's what has to happen."

For the longest time, Grandmother stared at me in what seemed to be amazement.

"Are you certain you're not a Slytherin?" she finally asked. "Resourceful, clever, and a healthy dose of self-preservation … you would do well there."

"Probably," I shrugged, "but my friends are in Gryffindor, so I chose to be with them."

Grandmother gave me an almost-smug half-smile. My almost-smug half-smile …

"A strong sense of fraternity as well, it seems," she said slyly. "You may have chosen the Lions' Den, my dear, but I'd check under your mane for some scales."

I gave the same smile back at her.

"My fangs have some pretty nasty venom in them," I said nonchalantly. "I think my Slytherin streak is covered."

Grandmother gave a deep, hearty chuckle that I think could've turned into a bark of laughter if she let some of her guard down.

"I do hope so, my dear," she said. "It seems that you're quite the Black Lady after all …"

"Coming from you?" I asked wryly. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Reggie?"

I turned and saw Uncle Sirius come up the stairs, his brow furrowed with concern.

"I'm okay, Uncle," I said calmly. "Grandmother and I got off on the wrong foot, but it's all settled now."

Sirius looked between me and Grandmother's painting cautiously before saying, "We're getting ready to leave. You should go and get a coat, it's freezing out there."

"Will do," I said. "Merry Christmas again, Grandmother," I called brightly as I hurried up the stairs.

As I reached the top of the stairs, I heard Grandmother's voice say to Uncle, "You'd best keep an eye on that one, boy. She'll take the Black Family to new heights, you mark my words!"

"No need to tell me that," Uncle scoffed lightly. "She's an inspiration to all of us."

Grinning a mile wide through my delighted blush, I hurried to dress in something warm. I finally came downstairs in a thick leather jacket over my Weasley sweater, my Gryffindor scarf, and black knee-high combat boots. After quickly slipping a black slouch beanie on top of my head and applying a little makeup, I hurried downstairs with my gift for Mr. Weasley to where everyone was waiting for me downstairs.

"What's that?" Ron asked, pointing at the gift.

"Some metal fidget toys for Mr. Weasley," I said with a smile. "It'll keep him from getting too bored in the hospital."

"Oh, thank you, dear!" Mrs. Weasley gushed. "He'll love them!"

The lobby of St. Mungo's Hospital was a bright and cheery winter wonderland when we got there. Crystal orbs that provided light were glowing red and gold, holly and ivy were draped across the top of every doorway, and large Christmas trees covered in magical snow and icicles glittered from the corners of the lobby.

We were directed to a room where we found a tall, thin, and sheepish-looking red-haired man finished a turkey dinner. No doubt this was Mr. Weasley; Ron had his nose and ears.

"Everything all right, Arthur?" Mrs. Weasley asked as we all greeted him and handed over our presents.

"Fine, fine!" Mr. Weasley said almost too heartily. "You – er – haven't seen Healer Smethwyck, have you?"

"No," Mrs. Weasley said suspiciously. "Why?"

"Nothing, nothing," Mr. Weasley said airily before clapping his eyes on me. "And who are you?"

"Reggie Dolan," I said, offering my hand to him. "I'm Sirius's niece."

"Good Lord, are you really?" Mr. Weasley asked delightedly. "Well, Ron and Ginny and the Twins have told me quite a bit about you! Tell me, are they all behaving?"

"Like proper Weasleys and Gryffindors!" I said, flashing a proud smile at them. The Twins made us laugh by pretending to blush.

"Good, good!" Mr. Weasley said as he opened my gift. "Oh my … and these are absolutely fantastic! Thank you, Reggie! Er … w-what are they for?"

"They're fidget toys!" I said, reaching over to grab one of the simpler ones to demonstrate. "The idea is to get the pieces apart and back together again without breaking them. Some are a bit trickier, but this way, you can keep busy without messing with your wound!"

"Splendid!" Mr. Weasley said brightly as he picked another one up.

"Speaking of wounds, Arthur," Mrs. Weasley snapped, making everyone sit or stand at attention, "you've had your bandages changed. Why have you had your bandages changed a day early, Arthur? They told me they wouldn't need doing until tomorrow."

Mr. Weasley began to bluster out an explanation about how a Trainee Healer had the idea of trying stitches to close up the wound. Halfway through the explanation, Lupin went off to talk to a guy in the room who had been bitten by a werewolf, and the Twins went to "get a cup of tea", leaving the rest of us to stand between Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Weasley's wrath.

"Well …" Mr. Weasley stammered as he tried to explain how the stitches hadn't worked quite as well as he'd hoped, "well, I don't know whether you know what – what stitches are, Molly?"

"It sounds as though you've been trying to sew your skin back together," Mrs. Weasley said through a snort of mirthless laughter, "but even you, Arthur, wouldn't be that stupid –"

"Excuse me?" I sneered. "I happen to have had stitches before and they've worked just fine for me, granted I've never used them on snake bites before …"

"You – you have?!" Mr. Weasley asked, anxious for a second opinion.

"Yeah, on my leg," I said, reaching down to trace the thick scar my mother's husband had left there the last time I'd seen him face-to-face. I noticed out of the corner of my eye as Harry's expression darkened when he realized what I was talking about; no doubt he remembered the story as well as I did. "They work best on slash and slice wounds, like from knives or things like that. Puncture wounds generally are treated with antibiotic creams and lots of gauze and bandages. You generally just make sure you don't get an infection or bleed out while waiting for it to heal."

"I see," Mr. Weasley said pensively as he considered what I'd told him.

"You cannot be serious!" Mrs. Weasley said loudly, flushing just like Ron did when in a foul temper.

"Reggie and I fancy a cup of tea too," Harry said, pulling me to my feet and all but dragging me out the door with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny hot on our heels as Mrs. Weasley's already-taut nerves began to snap.

"Typical Dad," Ginny said, shaking her head as we hurried down the hallway. "Stitches … I ask you …"

"Well, you know, they do work well on non-magical wounds," Hermione said fairly. "I suppose something in the snake's venom dissolves them or something … I wonder where the tearoom is?"

"Fifth floor," Harry said, pointing to a sign on the wall.

We walked along the hallway leading to the fifth floor, stalked by various portraits of past Healers who called out remedies for illnesses we clearly had. We got a great laugh out of one medieval wizard who thought Ron's freckles were the result of some disease called spattergroit.

"What floor's this?" Ron asked heatedly as we tried to stop laughing.

"I think it's the fifth," Hermione said, still giggling a little.

"Nah, it's the fourth," Harry chuckled, "one mo –"

I immediately stopped laughing when Harry suddenly cut himself off. I followed his shocked gaze and saw the double doors that were marked "SPELL DAMAGE". A man had his face pressed to the windows set into the door on the left. He had wavy blond hair, childlike blue eyes, and a broad smile that revealed blindingly-white teeth. There was only one person Harry had told me about that fit this man's description.

"Blimey," Ron gasped.

"Oh my goodness," Hermione said breathlessly, "Professor Lockhart!"

Seeing that we'd clearly seen him, he opened the doors and rushed toward us, wearing a long lilac dressing gown.

"Well, hello there!" he said cheerily. "I expect you'd like my autograph, would you?"

"Hasn't changed a bit, has he?" I whispered to Ginny, who grinned. The other three were clearly too shocked to do much of anything as Lockhart rounded us all up and herded us back to his hallway in order to get autographs. When we ran into Lockhart's Healer, she guilt-tripped us into at least pretending to visit him.

We were brought to a ward that was clearly meant to be more of a permanent home for the patients. More personal effects were allowed around the beds, and each patient clearly had his or her own leisure space around the bed. As Lockhart feverishly signed autograph after autograph, I curiously looked around at the few other occupants. One sullen-looking man stared at the ceiling and muttered in tongues as he remained seemingly unaware of what was happening around him while a woman covered in fur kept barking at people. Two other beds at the end of the ward were hidden by flowery curtains, so I didn't give them more than a cursory glance out of respect for their privacy.

"Here you are, Agnes!" the Healer said brightly as she gave the barking lady some presents. "See, not forgotten, are you? And your son's sent an owl to say he's visiting tonight, so that's nice, isn't it?

"And look, Broderick!" she said to the muttering man as she gave him an ugly-looking potted plant and a calendar, "you've been sent a potted plant and a lovely calendar with a different fancy hippogriff for each month, they'll brighten things up, won't they?

"And – oh, Mrs. Longbottom, are you leaving already?"

My head shot up at the word "Longbottom" and saw two people come from behind the curtains and walk briskly toward us. One was a proud-looking old witch wearing a long green dress, a moth-eaten fur drape, and a thoroughly ugly pointed hat – topped with a stuffed vulture, of all things! Behind her was a plump, brown-haired, and buck-toothed boy who looked like he wanted to just melt into a puddle of tears.

"Neville?"

Before I could even attempt to distract the others, Ron had looked up and recognized Neville. Instead of realizing that Neville clearly didn't want to talk to anyone, Ron tactlessly called out to him and tried to get his attention.

"It's us, Neville!" he called brightly as he got to his feet, clearly delighted at the idea of talking to someone other than Lockhart. "Have you seen? Lockhart's here! Who've you been visiting?"

"Ron!" I called, hurrying after him to pull him back. "Obviously Neville has somewhere to be! Why don't we let him and his grandmother go, and you can see him after break!"

I could see Neville out of the corner of my eye, and he looked simultaneously embarrassed at having been caught and very grateful to have a clear way out.

"Friends of yours, Neville, dear?"

The gratitude disappeared into pure dread and humiliation when Neville's grandmother came up to us, bearing a rather stern smile on her face.

"Augusta Longbottom," she said primly, offering her shriveled talon of a hand as regally as it were the Queen's.

"Uh … R-Regina Dolan, Mrs. Longbottom," I said, taking her hand and performing a sort of curtsying bow.

"Ah, the American," Mrs. Longbottom said as she peered down her nose at me. "Neville has told me about you. Who did you say your family was?"

"I didn't, Madam," I said, holding myself as Grandmother had told me to. "I descend from the House of Black on my father's side. I hope that won't be a problem."

"Well, not from anyone living, I assure you," Mrs. Longbottom said as she tried to hide her sneer at the sound of my Family Name. "But if Walburga could see you … oh, may she rest in peace!"

"From what I hear about her, I'm not sure if she knows how!" I said with Grandmother's almost-smug half-smile, making Mrs. Longbottom chuckle.

"Ah yes," she said, having caught sight of Harry behind me. "Yes, yes, I know who you are, of course. Neville speaks most highly of you."

"Er – thanks," Harry said awkwardly as he shook Mrs. Longbottom's hand.

"And you two are clearly Weasleys," she continued, offering her hand to Ron and Ginny in turn. "Yes, I know your parents – not well, of course – but fine people, fine people … and you must be Hermione Granger?"

Hermione looked very surprised that Mrs. Longbottom knew her name but shook hands nevertheless.

"Yes, Neville's told me all about you. Helped him out of a few sticky spots, haven't you?" Mrs. Longbottom said, peering down her nose this time at Neville, who looked very similar in color to a grape and refused to look anyone in the eye. "He's a good boy, but he hasn't got his father's talent, I'm afraid to say …"

"Well, of course not!" I said hotly. "He's not his father! Neville does really well in Herbology – he's helped the rest of us out of a few sticky spots as well."

"Has he?" Mrs. Longbottom asked snootily. "Well, he hasn't told me anything about that."

"Likely because you think poorly of Herbology," I said with a light sneer. "Was your son good at Herbology?"

"He was, bless him," she replied with a wistful glance over at the curtained area, "but he was better at Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts. He made such a wonderful Auror … it's too bad about what happened."

"What?" Ron asked, apparently having caught her glance down the ward. "Is that your dad down the end, Neville?"

"What's this?" Mrs. Longbottom asked sharply. "Haven't you told your friends about your parents, Neville?"

Neville took a deep breath, looked up at the ceiling, and shook his head. I had no idea what had happened to Neville's parents, but obviously it was something bad since they were here rather than at home with Neville.

"I – Maybe he doesn't want people treating him differently," I said, anxious to get some of the attention off of Neville. "I mean, Harry's constantly gawked at because of his parents! Who would willingly subject themselves to that kind of treatment?"

Neville looked me straight in the eyes for the first time, looking blindingly grateful, like I'd hit the nail right on the head.

"Well, yes, I suppose so," Mrs. Longbottom said, "but he should be proud! They didn't sacrifice their health and their sanity so their only son would be ashamed of them, you know!"

"I'm … I'm not ashamed, Gran," Neville said bravely, clenching his fists at his sides.

"Well, you've got a funny way of showing it!" Mrs. Longbottom snapped. "My son and his wife," she announced haughtily, "were tortured into insanity by You-Know-Who's followers. They are completely unable to recognize us as they are now."

My stomach dropped down to my feet in shock as my horror-struck face drained of blood. Of all the things I could have imagined, this was one of the worst! As awful as the thought sounded, the fate of Harry's parents was almost kinder. Lily and James may not have been around, but at least they weren't unable to recognize the people they loved.

"They were Aurors, you know, and very well-respected within the Wizarding community," Mrs. Longbottom went on. "Highly gifted, the pair of them. I – yes, Alice dear, what is it?"

We looked over and saw a ghostly woman edging her way toward us. She looked thin enough for me to easily snap her in two, her overly large eyes peeking out from behind the wispy white hair that hung in front of her worn, gaunt face. She didn't speak but made timid beckoning motions toward Neville, holding something in her outstretched hand.

"Again?" Mrs. Longbottom asked despairingly. "Oh, very well, Alice dear, very well – Neville, take it, whatever it is …"

Neville had already stretched out his hand to receive an empty Droobles Blowing Gum wrapper. I vaguely remembered that Neville always bought loads of the stuff on Hogsmeade trips but never chewed any of it himself. Maybe they weren't for him …

"Very nice, dear," Mrs. Longbottom said in a fake cheery voice as she patted Alice on her shoulder.

"Thanks, Mum," Neville said quietly, a look in his eyes that I could only describe as heartbroken. He looked over at us with a tearfully defiant look in his eye, one that I recognized from when he was planning on pummeling Malfoy into a bloody pulp for mocking the mentally ill patients at St. Mungo's. I looked him straight in the eye and gave him a respectful nod, making it clear that I wasn't going to even dream of laughing or mocking. He seemed to pull back a little, nodding back at me.

"Well, we'd better get back," Mrs. Longbottom sighed. "Very nice to meet you all. Neville, put that wrapper in the bin, she must have given you enough of them to paper your bedroom by now …"

As they left, I clearly saw Neville slip the wrapper into his pocket.

We got ready to leave soon after that, but not before another patient walked out into the open. He looked ghastly, his pale skin translucent in the glow from the orbs and his brittle hair as snow-white as Alice Longbottom's. His facial features were mostly prominent cheekbones, pointed chin and nose, and sunken eyes under an aristocratically sloped brow. As he got closer, I saw various scars of human bite-marks littering the skin uncovered by the dressing gown. His dark eyes were mostly vacant under his dark eyebrows, but when they rested on me, he almost looked as if he'd seen a ghost.

"Oh dear," the Healer said as she bustled over to him. "It's alright, come on, back to bed now!"

"Nnn…" the man gasped, stopping the Healer right in her tracks as he reached out his hands to me and staggered my way.

"Nnnn … iiiii … nnnaaaaaaa …"

Nina?

My heart thumped as I started to realize who the man thought I was.

My mother, Nienna.

Everyone said I looked very much like her, and "Nina" could be either a garbled version of my mother's name or a nickname, given to her by a friend.

Who could he be?

The Healer kept trying to get him to go back to bed, but the more she tried, the more anxious and almost violent he became in his efforts to get to me. It was if his life depended on reaching me. Finally, the Healer managed to sedate him and firmly asked us to leave.

As we exited the ward, I heard the man calling out my mother's name again, making it sound more like a sob that broke my heart and nearly made me turn back.

I never even heard his name.


	37. Redemption

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Redemption

The rest of the way back, I was almost in a daze, going over the visit to the Permanent Spell Damage Ward of St. Mungo's. All I could really focus on was the man who had shown up after the Longbottoms had left. He had only said one word the whole time: "Nina".

In my daze, I remembered a time, when I was only five or six, when a friend of Mom's mispronounced her name and had called her "Nina". Mom had turned white as a sheet and told that friend to leave. She'd never come back, which was a pity since she was actually nice to me. That night, Mom had suffered terrible nightmares, making an awful racket that her husband had later punished her for. Later on, I'd asked Mom what was wrong, and that was the only time she ever told me about my father, Regulus Black, and how I had been named for him. She cried while telling me and I hated seeing Mom cry, so I'd never asked her about Dad again.

Maybe I should have.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, there was a sort of idea as to who the Man in the Ward might have been, but I refused to even consider it because it was completely impossible! Right?

I knew I had to get more information, but without proving I was related to the Man, St. Mungo's was unlikely to give me any. Patient-doctor confidentiality and all that. Maybe the Longbottoms had an idea … but how to ask them without making them suspicious? I knew Neville would be my best bet since he knew me and knew I was respectful of him, but what if he didn't know? What then?

I guess I'd cross that bridge when I came to it.

As soon as we got back to Grimmauld Place, I hurried upstairs and began to feverishly write an apology letter to Neville. In my final draft, I made most of the letter about the apology for Ron's tactlessness, his grandmother's disdain, and his parents' situation, only mentioning the Man in passing in hopes Neville would make some casual remark about him in his reply.

I spent the next couple days feeling so anxious that I'm sure I drove everyone else crazy! If I wasn't digging a furrow into the carpet with my pacing, I was cleaning as frantically as a house elf, and when I wasn't pacing or cleaning, I was studying my family history, much to Uncle Sirius's dismay. As far as he was concerned, our family's past could go and hang, but I wanted to know what was expected of me as a Black.

I remembered wrinkling my nose when I saw that our family's main job in this last century was to police and maintain the purity of the magical bloodlines, following all alliances religiously and ruthlessly. Anyone who broke the status quo was blasted off the family tree by the Mother of the Household, which had been Grandmother Walburga from the 20s or 30s until her death when I was only five. And apparently, disowning was the Mother of the Household's job instead of the Father's because a mother was traditionally supposed to take care of the home and family while a father traditionally provided his wife the means to do so and laid down the law to the children.

Since I was the next Mother of the Household, it would be my job to take care of the Black Family as though it were a plant, tenderly fostering its growth while callously pruning off what would be harmful to it, even if that meant cutting the family tree down to a stump in order to start over. I felt my stomach give an uncomfortable lurch when I realized I was already doing that by cutting off all contact with my mother. As I thought about the Man in the Ward again, I wondered if maybe I should get back into contact again, for the sake of getting what could be family back together.

Finally, on December 31st, I received a reply letter from Neville. Completely ignoring everyone's questions, I hurried to the drawing room and opened the letter while standing in front of the family tree I'd spent so long trying to memorize.

Dear Reggie,

Thanks for your letter. I got laid into by Gran after we got home, so I was feeling pretty down about our visit. To hear you apologize about what had happened and know you really mean it, it helped a lot. So, thanks.

I didn't know you were descended from the Black family! We've got Black blood from Gran's brother's wife, Callidora. They had a son and a daughter, Great Uncle Algie and Great Aunt Enid. They're nice but a bit mad. Great Uncle Algie thought it a good idea to try to hang me out a window to get my magic to work. After Great Aunt Enid offered him a meringue, he dropped me out the window, but I bounced. Great Uncle Algie was so happy, he gave me Trevor. He also gave me the Mimbulus Mimbletonia I splashed the compartment with on the Hogwarts Express. As I said, nice but a bit mad. Gran says it's the Black in them, but I don't know.

You know, you're the first one Old Rab ever talked to. He was left here a long time ago, about fifteen years, I think. An old house elf was the one who brought him in, saying his master needed looking after. His family pays for his upkeep, but no one knows exactly which family it is. After he got there and was docile enough to be talked to, they asked him what his name was. When they realized he couldn't speak, they put some parchment, a quill, and some ink in front of him to see if that would help. All he ever wrote were three letters, "RAB", so they started calling him "Rab", short for some Scottish form of "Robert", I think. In the hallways, he's known as Old Rab because he's got the hair and eyes of an old man. No one knows exactly who he is or why he is the way he is, but I do know he hates bath time. I've heard him cry like a kid about to be paddled, and they use a tiny tub with warm water, too! Whatever happened to him, it happened while he was in water, probably deep water since they don't even fill the tub halfway.

If he spoke to you, you must be someone special to him. Write to Healer Bacchus at St. Mungo's and request a blood test. He'll be able to tell if you're related or not. I've added a sponsoring seal for you to use. Put it next to your signature so he knows that I recommended you. Let me know how things turn out!

Happy Christmas!

Yours truly,

Neville Franklin Longbottom

I stared at that parchment for the longest time before falling to my knees and reaching out to trace Dad's name on the family tree.

"Regulus Arcturus Black," I whispered. "R.A.B."

"Regulus always signed his name with his initials," I heard a drawling voice muse from behind me. "Always thought it made him look fancy, having an original signature. Pretentious little prat."

"That is my dad, Uncle Sirius," I said in slight annoyance, knowing Uncle Sirius did really care about Dad but chose to hide it in favor of expressing jealousy over not being the favored child.

"I don't blame you for him," he said placatingly before walking over to me with a grin. "Who's the letter from?"

"Neville Longbottom," I said quietly. "W-We ran into him and his grandmother at St. Mungo's."

"Did you see …"

"Not his dad," I said. "We did see Alice, though. Is Mr. Longbottom … worse than his wife?"

"… I'm guessing so," he said with a grimace. "I haven't seen Frank since he went into hiding with Alice and Neville. Really dynamic guy. Loads of friends, great in school, and head-over-heels for shy, mousy Alice Collins. Told me once that he'd seen her smiling once at a flower she'd gotten for Valentine's Day in fifth year. It was a white carnation, he said. Meant 'sweet and lovely', she told him. He decided then that he would do whatever it took to get her to smile that smile at him."

"Did he do it?" I asked, my tough-girl heart melting into mush at the adorable love story.

"Yeah," Uncle Sirius said with a surprisingly tender smile. "On the last day of seventh year, when he brought her to the same spot he'd first seen that smile. He got down on one knee and held out a white carnation with a diamond ring tied to the stem."

"And she said yes?!" I squealed, grinning a mile wide at the cuteness of it all.

"Yep," Uncle Sirius said. "Smiled that smile at him and nodded her head so fast and hard, her head almost fell off. She never said much out of general fear of people, but when she did, you definitely listened."

"Sounds a lot like her son," I said, thinking of the shyness and sweetness that abounded in Neville. "Mrs. Longbottom didn't like Alice much, did she?"

Uncle Sirius frowned. "Alice was half-blood, with Macmillan blood on her mother's side, so Augusta wasn't too disappointed. But she would definitely have preferred that Alice actually speak up once in a while. Most Longbottom men preferred stronger, cheekier women, but Frank liked the quiet strength Alice had. And since he was the Only Son, he couldn't really do wrong. Same with James and Lily, now that I think about it."

"That's why a pureblood's parents allowed him to marry a No-Maj-born?" I asked.

"Pretty much," he said with a casual nod.

We were quiet for a while, but my mind was whirring wildly. Should I tell him about Old Rab, or should I wait …?

I looked up at him and saw that he was staring at Dad's name with a sadly pensive look on his face.

"What was he like?" I asked. "Dad. And I don't mean the 'pretentious little prat.'"

Uncle Sirius gave a derisive chuckle before sitting cross-legged on the floor next to me. He was quiet for a while, but when he began speaking, it was like he was talking at Dad's funeral. Soft, pensive … and regretful.

"He was sly, quiet, book-smart, too soft to fight … hated fighting at all, really. Mother and I would fight about anything at the drop of a hat, but Regulus … he'd always try to talk us down. He had guts, I'll admit, getting in between us when we're going at it like rabid dogs over a bone, but he was like Dad like that. They both preferred peace over anything with the family, even if it meant they wouldn't get their way."

"Well, I don't think seeing the mother and eldest son fight all the time was good entertainment," I said quietly, thinking about how it felt when I would constantly fight Mom and her husband about something. I would hate to have another kid in that environment, especially one who was younger than me. A part of me thought that I'd pick even more fights just to keep my younger sibling out of the spotlight, as long as they kept their heads down.

"It wasn't," Uncle Sirius replied. "No matter what we did, Mother would always find something to scold us about. Our clothes, our posture, our hair, our friends, our grades in school, our thoughts about life … if we weren't completely perfect in her eyes, we were failures!"

"Maybe that's why he didn't fight," I said, remembering a friend of mine in Ilvermorny who had been verbally abused at home. "Maybe he felt that if he was perfect for her, she wouldn't scold him and cause fewer problems for you and your father. He sacrificed his happiness so you two could get some peace."

Uncle Sirius stared at me in shock, like he'd never thought of that before.

"But … why wouldn't he …"

"Not everyone reacts the same to abuse," I said in a dull voice, remembering what I'd heard therapists preach over and over again. "Some are like us and act out, constantly hitting back with whatever we can … others do all they can to obey all the rules so they don't get hurt again, not that it ever really works. He was younger, smaller, and he saw that fighting back didn't really make things better, so he tried to be the perfect son to keep the peace, even if he didn't like what he had to do."

"He joined the Death Eaters … after I ran away," he said in an empty voice. "He was only sixteen …"

"Maybe he felt he'd be safer or better off with them," I said with a sense of rising horror. "Constantly belittled at home, really smart at school, a pureblood son of an old family … a perfect protégé for Voldemort!"

"But what would he see in …?"

I immediately began rattling off reasons why a boy like Dad would want to join the Death Eaters. I'd been offered similar things myself back in New York but had never taken the bait.

"Security, protection from his mother, the promise of being looked up to instead of looked down on, the idea of having power and control … maybe even protection for you and Grandfather, if Voldemort was feeling particularly generous."

Uncle Sirius let out a bone-deep groan as he let his hands fall into his face.

"… I failed him," he gasped, sobbing desperately at the thought.

Those three words made my decision for me.

"W-What if you … didn't?" I asked.

Uncle Sirius looked up at me with tear-bright eyes.

"At … At St. Mungo's … there was someone else we saw, after the Longbottoms left," I admitted. I told Uncle Sirius about Old Rab, describing his looks and behavior, and showed Neville's letter to him, pointing out the final paragraphs that described other things about Old Rab.

"I was going to write to Healer Bacchus right after I'd wrapped my head around what had happened," I said. "Would you … do you wanna help?"

Uncle Sirius clamped onto the idea, the hope, that his kid brother was still alive with the ferocity of a pit bull. He was manically obsessive with every word I wrote in that letter and set the sponsoring seal himself with a precision that was almost OCD-level. We used my little owl, Regulus, to send the letter to St. Mungo's and simply held on to each other, praying with every fiber of our bodies that we were right.

If Old Rab was Regulus Arcturus Black … so many things could be set right for this family.

On that night, with the New Year looming just on the horizon, redemption for the Black Family was finally possible.


	38. Waiting Game

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Waiting Game

Over the next few days, Uncle Sirius fell into what Mrs. Weasley petulantly called "fits of the sullens". He would become brooding, grumpy, and prone to sitting in Buckbeak the Hippogriff's room for hours on end, staring at the wall. I wondered if it was because of the letter we'd sent off to St. Mungo's, but Harry privately voiced his worries that it was due to the fact that our Christmas Break was ending and Sirius would be forced to live alone in this house with no one but Buckbeak and Kreacher for company. I figured either situation was more than possible.

Speaking of Kreacher, I finally found him after Sirius and I had sent off the letter, bumping around in the attic and covering himself in dust and cobwebs in a possible attempt to find more Black family artifacts before Uncle Sirius could. The second that wrinkly old bullfrog of a house elf saw me, he fixed his bloodshot, watery gray eyes on me and openly stared. Having had a similar reaction from Winky and knowing what she had seen in me, I simply stared back at him with my chin raised and my shoulders straight, refusing to let his scrutiny freak me out.

Finally, Kreacher's bullfrog voice stammered, "… M-M-Master Regulus …"

"My father, Kreacher," I said firmly. "My mother was his friend, Nienna. Do you remember her?"

Kreacher's eyes skimmed over every inch of my face as he muttered to himself in a voice that was perfectly audible to me.

"Kreacher remembers Miss Nienna Lewis, oh yes he does, pretty thing but nouveau riche, not fit for Master Regulus, this new girl says Miss Nienna and M-Master Regulus are her mother and father, oh my poor Mistress, if she knew the common blood in that parvenu, my Mistress would not have allowed the match, oh the shame of it –"

"Your dead mistress already knows about my parents, Kreacher," I said, keeping the firmness in my voice and stance. "She's already accepted it because there's nothing she can do about it. I'm here, already created, and Grandmother and Dad are dead so –"

Kreacher suddenly began shaking his head so hard his floppy ears began hitting him in the face and back of his head, like a toy twisty-drum. His muttering started up again, his voice frantic and interrupted every once in a while with hoarse wheezing as he worked himself into a panic.

"Stupid girl says lies, Master Regulus cannot be dead, no he cannot, Kreacher found him, Kreacher dragged him out, oh the water was so cold and deep but Kreacher did it, Kreacher put Master Regulus in a safe place, Kreacher gave Master Regulus to Healers, they will heal him, they must heal him, Kreacher needs help, Kreacher cannot obey Master's last command –"

To my horror, Kreacher began banging his forehead on the floor with enough force to bruise. I instinctively reached for him and screamed,

"Kreacher, stop – stop that right now!"

Thankfully, Kreacher actually stopped just as he'd sat up to bring his head downward again, but he stared up at me with a look of shock and misery and … delight?

"… M-M-Master R-Regulus … this g-girl has … the same m-magic … c-can it b-b-be …?"

"My name is Regina Galadriel Dolan," I said, kneeling and looking Kreacher in the eye to make sure he listened to me. "My father is Regulus Arcturus Black, and my mother is Nienna Black Dolan. Uncle Sirius accepted me into this family as his niece and heir. I am your new Mistress, and I want nothing but the best from you, understand? I want this place to be restored to its former glory; I want to see this place and be filled with pride to be a part of this family. I know you can help us, Kreacher; we can't truly restore this place without your help. Will you help us, Kreacher?"

Kreacher stared up at me for the longest time before straightening to his full height and gracefully bowing so low that the tip of his snoutish nose touched the dusty floor.

"It would be Kreacher's honor, Mistress Regina," he said solemnly.

"Good," I said with a smile. "Now, I know this will be a big job for one house elf to do, so I'm arranging for another house elf to come and learn from you how to care for this house properly."

"But Mistress, surely Kreacher can –"

"I know you can, Kreacher," I said. "But what'll happen when you die? You don't happen to have any house elf children to carry on your work, do you?"

Kreacher slowly shook his head.

"So, this elf will be the one to take care of this family after you're gone," I said. "She's a hard worker and a quick learner, and your responsibility is to make sure that she knows everything about how to care for this family as you have for all these years. Can you do that?"

Kreacher seemed to think it over for a while before finally agreeing to teach Winky how to take care of the Black family, which was a HUGE relief. The last thing I needed to deal with was two house elves butting heads and leaving Uncle Sirius to handle them alone.

While I brought Kreacher down to Uncle Sirius to let him know what had happened, I thought about some of the things Kreacher had said in his panic. Uncle Sirius, Ron, the Twins, and Harry had all warned me that Kreacher wasn't right in the head, but they fit with what Neville had told me. They gave me even more faith that Old Rab was my dad, alive and cared for but not in the least bit sane. Whatever happened to him had clearly driven him out of his mind with fear, and I doubted much could be done to heal him if nothing had been done in the past fifteen years.

"Alright, Reg?"

I jumped in my seat on the drawing room couch and saw Harry standing nearby, looking concerned.

"Yeah," I said, rubbing a hand down my face. "I just … have a lot going on right now."

"Like what?" he asked, taking a seat next to me. "Can I help?"

"Not right now," I said tiredly. "At this point, it's a damn waiting game."

Without a word, Harry scooted over and leaned toward me, leaning his shoulder against mine. I took it a step farther and rested my head on his shoulder with a sigh.

"Is it about that old man at St. Mungo's?" Harry asked quietly.

"… Yeah," I whispered. "I … think he could be my dad. Uncle Sirius thinks so, too."

I sensed Harry stiffen. He was quiet for a long while before responding.

"Blimey … that's …"

"Yeah," I chuckled. "Uncle Sirius and I sent a letter on New Year's Eve to a Healer that Neville recommended. I don't know if he's just got a pile of letters to sort through and hasn't gotten to it yet or if something awful has happened, but he hasn't responded yet. I want to know so bad, Harry! That could be my dad, and I just …"

To my eternal embarrassment, I realized I was crying. Before I could wipe my tears away, Harry scooted closer and placed his elbow on my lap. I clumsily wrapped my hands around his arm and tried to bury my face in his shoulder to hide my tears. I felt Harry's free hand grab both of mine where they rested on top of his bicep and his cheek gently rest on top of my hair.

"If he is your dad, he'll be like Neville's parents," Harry said quietly. "He might recognize your mum, but he may not ever know who you are."

"… I know," I said, squeezing my eyes shut in a useless attempt to stop crying, "but … if I don't … ever find out … and he is Dad … I won't ever forgive myself for abandoning him. I'd have to be the biggest dickhead to leave him behind!"

"Worse than Malfoy?" Harry asked drily, trying and succeeding in making me laugh a little.

"As awful as that sounds, yes," I said with a small smile. "Much worse than my stupid little cousin."

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" Harry continued in that dry tone that always made me laugh. "You're better than a hundred Malfoys, so you'd have to try a hundred times as hard to be that awful! You'd wear yourself out!"

"That is true," I said contemplatively. "Seriously, how does he do it? Does he ever take days off?"

"Probably when he goes to whine to his dad," Harry chuckled.

I snorted with laughter as I sat up straight.

"OK, picture it!" I laughed, flopping over onto my back with my head in Harry's lap. I screwed up my face to imitate Malfoy's annoyed scowl and imitated his posh, whiny voice, much to Harry's amusement.

"Oh, Father, school is so horrible! Everyone's so mean to me! They won't cheer when I enter the room! They won't let me walk on them so my shiny shoes don't have to touch that nasty, dirty floor! They won't make the Mudbloods go jump in the lake! It's not fair, Father! Make those stupid people go away! Make them all love me!"

By the end of it, Harry was roaring with laughter, which made me start to laugh too. We spent the time until dinner making fun of everyone we hated back at school. He had Professor Snape's nasal voice down pat, but I almost made him pee when I tied two pillows to my butt with my belt and waddled around like Umbridge did, coughing primly and giggling girlishly as he howled in delight. Somehow, we ended up playing dodgeball with the pillows, showing that both of us could be decent Chasers if we had to be.

When Mrs. Weasley called us down for dinner, he helped put the room back together and looked over at me with a smile. I simply smiled back, knowing he'd started the whole thing to make me feel better about waiting for an answer. It was unbelievably sweet how he decided to make me laugh instead of giving me a task or arguing with me to distract me.

"Thanks," I said later when he passed me some meatballs, giving him a smile that let him know it wasn't just for the food.

"No … no problem," he blushingly said in return, obviously getting the message.

After a sinfully satisfying dessert of Mrs. Weasley's Sticky Toffee Pudding, Kreacher surprised us by bringing in the mail, already sorted by recipient for easy distribution. A heartfelt thanks and a smile from me had a visible effect on him; he straightened up a bit and left with a slight spring in his step.

There were a few letters for me: one from Tracey, one from Theo, one from Mom … and one from Healer Bacchus.

"Uncle Sirius …" I called lowly, looking over at him to see him peering intensely over at me. I decided against leaving the room, feeling too impatient to go somewhere else, and all but ripped the envelope open.

"He wants to meet with us," I said seriously after reading the letter through three times. "He said he went to Dumbledore and got the OK to talk to us both!"

"Why both of us?" Sirius asked worriedly, completely ignoring the confusion and concern from everyone else.

"He wants a way to prove for sure that Old Rab is part of the family. As far as the world's concerned, you're the last Black alive. He can prove that I'm related to Old Rab, but he can't prove Rab's Dad until we prove Rab's your brother. He says he's been brought into the Order, so you can come as Padfoot and just pretend you're a service dog until we're in his office …"

"Probably should change my coloring, just to be sure …"

"Yeah, we'll make you ginger instead!" I laughed, making Uncle Sirius laugh too.

"When does Bacchus want to meet?" he asked.

"Tomorrow at noon," I said. "Half the staff will be on lunch, so we'll be less likely to be eavesdropped on."

"Sounds like a plan!" Uncle Sirius said, rubbing his hands together with a demented grin.

"Sirius!" Mrs. Weasley gasped. "You can't leave the house, it's not safe!"

"Dumbledore said we could, Mrs. Weasley," I said, holding up a second piece of paper signed by Dumbledore himself.

"Why are you going to St. Mungo's?" Hermione asked.

"You remember that guy in the Permanent Damage Ward?" I asked. When she nodded, I said with a hesitant grin, "He could be my dad. We need to do a blood test on all three of us to be sure."

Hermione and Ginny looked absolutely delighted that I could have found Dad and ran over to squish me in a three-way hug, squealing excitedly. Their excitement was contagious; everyone got up and started hugging me and shaking Uncle Sirius's hand in congratulations.

I caught Harry grinning at me as he held his arms crossed in front of his chest, the first two fingers of both hands crossed as he silently wished me luck. I used one hand to send the message back, knowing I'd need every bit of good luck I could get at this point.


	39. Breaking the Chains of the Past

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Breaking the Chains of the Past

The next day dawned bright and clear and crisp. Uncle Sirius and I were running around madly to get ready for our noon meeting with Healer Bacchus. I had my outfit all ready to go, but Uncle Sirius … man, he was tricky! Most of his clothes were moth-eaten and slightly smelly, so we had to quickly wash and haphazardly mend the robes he finally chose. And after all that, we had to find a charm that would only modify the color of his Animagus form; he absolutely refused to show up to a meeting this important with a crappy dye job!

Finally, with only half an hour until noon, we managed to get everything ready. I was dressed in a more serious outfit, all black and white business-casual clothes that had the boys whistling softly in appreciation. Uncle Sirius was in a black set of robes from the seventies, which had a paisley pattern sewn into it with shimmery black thread that only showed in certain lights. In his Padfoot form, which I insisted on calling "Gimli" after one of my favorite Tolkien characters, he was a beautiful ginger-colored Irish Deerhound that wore a black guide-dog harness that, along with a pair of sunglasses and a collapsible white cane, would aid in the illusion that I was a blind girl coming to visit Healer Bacchus.

To my relief, Uncle Sirius was fabulous as Gimli the Guide Dog! He remembered all the commands we'd practiced, and he would actually stop when something came up that a blind person actually wouldn't notice, like holes in the street or cars entering or leaving the street. He entered first into St. Mungo's, pulling me along behind him, and he was the one who followed the nurse to Healer Bacchus's office. I was almost certain that we'd pulled it off without a hitch!

The happily plump Healer Bacchus smiled warmly as he welcomed us into his office. He was an almost childlike man, with round rosy cheeks and sparkling dark-brown eyes. His eyebrows were wild and bushy and deep black, but the only hair he had on his head was a little wispy line of white hair that went from above one ear, around the back of the head, and up above the other ear. All in all, I liked him immediately, and thankfully, Uncle Sirius did too.

"Well," Healer Bacchus said in a jolly sort of voice, "this is a happy occasion, I've been told!"

"Yep!" I said happily as I took my sunglasses off. "Hopefully, we'll find my dad and his brother!"

"Splendid!" Healer Bacchus said, clapping his hands merrily before grabbing a clipboard and hurrying around his desk. "Ah … you can change back now, milord," he added, chirping his thanks when Uncle Sirius changed back and lounged in one of the chairs. Seeing him interact with Healer Bacchus was something interesting to watch; it was like watching David Bowie as the Goblin King in "Labyrinth", all casual elegance and charming arrogance and the tiniest bit of vulnerability.

We spent about half an hour with Healer Bacchus, going over what would happen while our blood was being drawn and what they would do with the blood once it had been drawn. When I asked how long it would take, he said it would be several weeks before I knew, likely sometime in early to mid February. Uncle Sirius deflated when he heard that, but he straightened when I took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

After Healer Bacchus finished, he had us sign some papers: waivers that made sure we understood what was being done with our blood and forms that clarified any medical conditions or medications might be found in our blood. I finished first, so Healer Bacchus took care of my blood first.

After taking me to an adjoining examination room, Healer Bacchus had me sit in a recliner chair that was really more like a lever than anything else before asking me to hold out my clenched left fist while he applied a tourniquet to my upper arm make the veins easier to find. He then expertly felt along the inside of my elbow to find a vein and quickly cleaned the area with a potion when he found one. He grabbed a syringe, uncapped it, and held it to my arm as he pulled the skin taut with his thumb

"You'll feel a bit of a pinch," he warned me gently. "If you want to look away, now would be the time."

I immediately spun my head around and tried to stay still as the needle was inserted into my arm. When I looked back around, the blood was starting to fill the syringe. Healer Bacchus quickly removed the tourniquet and had me open my hand while the vial filled. The area where the needle had punctured my vein felt a bit hot and pinched slightly, but I kept breathing slowly and deeply and tried to focus on something else, like the worried face Uncle Sirius was giving me from the doorway. After the needle was removed, Healer Bacchus held a small piece of gauze to the wound while tipping the vial back and forth a few times. He then had me hold the gauze to my wound while he went to go label my vial and prepare a new vial and needle for Uncle Sirius.

"How did it go?" Uncle Sirius asked when I went to go past him into Healer Bacchus's office.

"Pinched a bit," I said bravely, "but he warns you before he pokes you, so it's not so bad."

I got a laugh when I heard Uncle Sirius yelp in pain a minute later. Healer Bacchus had to do the procedure all over again because Uncle Sirius flinched so bad.

On the way back, despite my sunglasses, I couldn't help but notice that Uncle Sirius, as Gimli the Guide Dog, kept favoring his left foreleg. I just called him a big baby and logged the story in my mind to use as mild humiliation material later.

I started my afternoon by heading into the drawing room and going over the mail I'd received yesterday. Tracey simply told me everything she'd been doing since she'd seen me and wished me a Happy New Year before asking if Theo had written me yet. Theo's letter listed possible events to go to over the break, including an interesting ballet at the Sadler's Wells Theatre, which wasn't very far from Grimmauld Place. My mother's letter, on the other hand, revealed something extraordinary.

December 26, 1995

Kowalski Residence

Malba, Queens, New York City

My dearest daughter,

I write to you with the heaviest of regrets. The disregard for your life, your wellbeing, that I have allowed from my husband is unforgiveable, and yet I have forgiven it again and again. I know I cannot, in good conscience, ask this of you, but I am begging for your forgiveness.

You have always been so strong, so brave, and I knew that you would be able to handle anything thrown your way. But seeing you racing from the house that summer night, bleeding and limping and in grave fear of your life, showed me that there are some storms you shouldn't have to weather.

I went to the police that night, but by the time they got to the house, Roger was gone, along with all the money and most of the valuables we had lying around the house. Your room was left alone, thank Merlin, but that may be due to the protection charm I placed on your door when you were old enough to have your own room. It was a rough neighbourhood we were living in, and I wanted to be sure you had a safe place to hide from the world. At least, I did that one thing right.

I sent you to Hogwarts because I knew that Roger could come after you and that I was no longer fit to look after you. The years I have spent hiding and suppressing my magic have actually atrophied my magical core. I have enough magic to keep me alive, but not enough to protect or harm anyone else.

I have let you get hurt for far too long, Reggie, and I had to do something to give you a chance to start again. Professor Dumbledore has stayed in contact with me concerning your welfare at Hogwarts. Your grades are wonderful, even though your conduct leaves a bit to be desired. However, considering who is truly in charge at Hogwarts, I am not that surprised. You remind me too much of your uncle in moments like this. You react to attempts of domination and intimidation in the same way he does, by showing how courageous and daring and downright reckless you are.

Even if you never forgive me, please know that I am so immensely proud of you and that I love you more than I can possibly say. Your strength, your courage, your compassion all show me that you are a very special young woman who will make the world truly better by simply being who you are in any given moment. It is my one wish that we can someday be a family again, although I know that it would be a miracle if that were to happen.

Wishing you a Happy Christmas and Happy New Year,

All my regret and all my love,

Nienna Justine Lewis Black

I stared at the letter in shock until I turned the papers over. My eyes almost bugged out of my head when I saw a print-out of a news article from The Spirit, a local No-Maj newspaper for the Upper West Side of Manhattan. It showed the attempted arrest of a man named Roger Dolan for driving while under the influence of drugs and alcohol. He'd pulled a knife on the officers when they got close, and they had to take defensive measures. He'd died later in the hospital from five gunshot wounds to the chest and abdomen. The date of the article was the day after Christmas. The article had one small mention of his wife and stepdaughter, saying the wife was staying with friends in an attempt to hide from her husband while the stepdaughter was away at school.

I gasped and fell to my knees as my mind scrambled to process what had just happened. My mother's husband … was dead! The man who hurt and humiliated me for so many years … was dead! The monster who turned my mother into a meek shadow of herself … was dead!

"We're free!" I gasped, bursting into quiet tears. "We're free! Oh thank you, God, WE'RE FREE!"

Before I could regain control of my emotions, the drawing room door burst open and revealed Harry and Uncle Sirius looking very concerned.

"You were right," I said, holding the article out to Harry. "He won't touch me ever again!"

Harry looked from me to the article and back to me again before dropping the papers as he fell to his knees and wrapped me in the tightest hug he's ever given me. My entire world for that moment was full of Harry's heartbeat in my ear, his arms enveloping me, his earthy scent filling my nostrils … I felt safer than I'd ever felt before, safe enough to melt into a puddle of tears as I clung desperately to him. I sensed Uncle Sirius's voice somewhere on the periphery, but I wasn't in the right state to acknowledge him.

For the first time in years, I knew I was safe. My childhood monster had been vanquished by American heroes in blue, and my formerly absent mother wanted to rekindle the relationship we had when I was little and still trusted her.

The chains of our dark past were broken.

We could finally move forward into what could be a brighter future, as a family.


	40. A Lovely Time

**And here's a brand-new chapter! So, before anyone gets lawyers involved, I do not own St. Mark's Church in Myddleton Square, the Shakespeare's Head Pub in Islington, the Sadler's Wells Theatre, nor Matthew Bourne's "Swan Lake". All the above-mentioned buildings and play are real and can be explored via the Internet!**

**Matthew Bourne's "Swan Lake" actually did premiere in early November of 1995, so it was around during Christmas Break of Book 5, and it actually did cast male dancers as the swans and focus on the Prince's slow descent into madness due to him feeling trapped by the life of royalty. I thought this would be quite poignant for Reggie to see, considering her father's past, and that it would be a good cultural event for her and Theo to enjoy for their first "date". Not much Harry jealousy in this chapter, but there might be in the next few so stay tuned!**

**As always, read, enjoy, and review! Thanks!**

**\- Owlix**

Chapter Forty: A Lovely Time

On Thursday, December 28, a couple nights after receiving news of my stepfather's death, I got a letter just after lunch from Theo containing a ticket for the Sadler's Wells Theatre, which was showing an all-new version of "Swan Lake" by a No-Maj named Matthew Bourne. Theo didn't say too much about the differences from the original story, but he seemed to be interested. He said that he was willing to meet me on Saturday night at six o'clock in front of St. Mark's Church, which was about a five-minute walk from Grimmauld Place.

After getting permission from Uncle Sirius, I wrote Theo back and immediately began planning my outfit for the "date". Hermione and Ginny came into the room around tea-time and found me sitting in the middle of a clothing maelstrom. I fully admitted to them that I had absolutely no idea what to do! I knew I should dress up, but how dressy should I dress up? I wanted to look nice, but not so nice that Theo thought I was interested in him, but also nice enough that Harry thought I was interested in Theo … and I had no idea how to pull that off!

Ginny laughed at how frantic this whole masquerade was making me and helped calm me down while Hermione cleaned up the mess I'd created and found some appropriate items to wear to a ballet. We finally decided on a mid-thigh-length black dress with lace sleeves and a collar that buttoned closed at the base of my neck, a pair of knee-high stiletto boots, and a long black duster jacket for traveling.

The next thirty-six hours were dedicated to forcing myself to not freak out about the "date", act like I was genuinely excited to go on a date, and avoid Harry's possessive glare while Hermione and Ginny were helping me getting ready. After getting in my freshly laundered dress and cleaned-until-they-looked-like-new boots at five o'clock on Saturday night, Ginny applied some killer cat-eye black eyeliner and some wine-red lipstick after Hermione gathered my wild black curls into a layered flipped ponytail-bun that managed to look elegant while still holding on to my personality.

Per makeover tradition, I stood up and looked at the whole picture in the full-length mirror the girls kept in the room. I was amazed at how elegantly badass I looked with the delicateness of the lace, the classiness of the hairstyle, and the edginess of the leather boots, and I couldn't help but laugh in delight at my reflection.

"D'you wanna know the best part about the makeup?" Ginny asked playfully. At my nod, she continued, "Only a certain cleanser can remove it, so you won't need to constantly touch it up over the night!"

"That's incredible!" I gasped, rubbing a finger experimentally along my lips to see if anything would rub off and grinning when I saw absolutely nothing on my fingertip.

"You're welcome!" Ginny chirped as she carefully put away the makeup, which was no doubt very expensive.

"Seriously, you two," I said gratefully, looking at the proudly-smiling Hermione and the impishly-smirking Ginny in turn, "thanks so much for supporting me in all this!"

"Like I said," Hermione said matter-of-factly, "Harry needs to see you as someone available, and the best way to do that is to get you on a date with someone else!"

"And who better to go on a date with," Ginny asked, "than a Slytherin who's been known to make you laugh and chooses your company over most other people in the DA?"

We all shared a laugh of mischievous camaraderie just before a knock came at the door. We opened it and saw the Twins waiting for me. They both whistled appreciatively as I spun in front of them to give them the full picture.

"You're gonna knock that Slytherin boy dead, Reggie!" George said kindly, making me smile.

"Hopefully, we don't see a chalk outline on the street tomorrow!" Fred quipped, making me laugh.

"Why, thank you boys!" I said with a slight curtsy before heading downstairs behind them.

When we got to the bottom of the stairs, I was surprised to see everyone waiting for me. I bravely put on a toothy smile while descending the last flight of stairs, ending up right in front of Uncle Sirius, who looked as though he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"You look incredible, Princess!" he finally said with a roguish grin. "So incredible, in fact, that you need to go straight back upstairs so I can lock you in your room and never let you near boys again!"

Everyone laughed as I smacked Uncle Sirius's shoulder with a mock-glare.

"Honestly, though," he said sincerely, "you do look incredible! That boy had better treat you right tonight, understand?"

"Don't worry, Uncle!" I said as I gave him a hug. "I'll make sure he behaves tonight!"

"Remind me again what you're seeing tonight, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked nervously.

"Matthew Bourne's 'Swan Lake'," I said, reading it off of the ticket I'd fished out of a small coin purse in my duster's pocket. "Theo and I are having dinner at a pub near the theatre, and then we're going to the show, after which he'll walk me back to the other side of the square here and I'll walk back here through the park after he leaves."

"That sounds good," Uncle Sirius said. "While you're on your date, just remember that a member of the Order will be tailing you. If you want to leave without him, tuck your hair behind your left ear and pull the lobe twice."

"Or I could just get up and storm off," I suggested.

"You could while in the pub," Remus said while holding out a small jewelry box, "but while in the theatre, it's a little harder to do that. That action combination will activate a special Portkey that will take you back to the park. If you time it just right, the darkness will hide the fact that you're using magic."

"It won't spit out sparks or make noises or anything like that?" I asked, knowing how Portkeys usually looked when activated.

"Not at all," Remus replied. "More than anything, it'll look as if the shadows around you are swallowing you whole. It'll happen fast, so your date won't be able to get pulled along."

With that in mind, I opened the jewelry box and pulled out a pair of black and red rose cameo earrings. They were classy and unique but wouldn't raise any eyebrows. I liked them!

"Thanks!" I said as I put the earrings in. "And who will be tailing me tonight?"

"An Auror by the name of Tonks," Remus said with a strangely playful smile. "You'll know her by the violet dress she's wearing."

"Thanks again!" I said as I put the duster on and took a deep breath. "Wish me luck!"

"Good luck!" everyone chorused, making me laugh as I stepped out onto the street.

Work had already let out for the day, but there were still a fair amount of people on the snowy street. Some of them looked at me strangely, but I just gave them a smile and kept walking on.

Less than five minutes after I set out, I saw the impressive structure of St. Mark's Church. I slowed down a little to take a better look at the intricate carvings around and above the door, which had me looking up and up until I was gazing at the top of the building. I couldn't help but wonder if that's why churches like this were carved more intricately on the upper levels, so people could keep their gaze on heaven.

With a shrug, I dismissed my rare moment of deep, religious thought and peered along the street until I recognized the tall, thin figure of Theo Nott leaning against a light-post in front of the church. He saw me and smiled as he straightened up and walked toward me. We stopped a couple of feet away from each other and looked each other up and down. Theo was wearing a simple but very well-made black suit with a black bow-tie and very-dark green silk lining; he actually looked quite dapper.

"Am I underdressed?" I asked somewhat nervously. While most Americans might not have cared, I knew that the British who cared about formality cared a lot, and Theo's family was one of the ones that cared a LOT about formality.

"Actually," Theo said with a charming smile, "ye look rather striking, in a surprisingly understated way."

He held out his arm and guided me down the street, walking on the edge of the sidewalk. We were quiet for a while before he spoke.

"Who are ye staying with in London?" he asked.

"An old friend of Harry's parents," I said, rehearsing the story I'd practiced. While I trusted Theo, there were some things that were too important to tell him, or anyone for that matter.

"It turns out that he's actually my paternal uncle!" I continued in delight.

"Is 'e, now?" Theo asked, seeming to be truly interested. "And 'ow'd ye find that out?"

"Well, I knew I'd been named after my dad," I said, "and I knew what my mom's maiden name had been, so I asked around and I managed to find the right person who pointed me to my uncle!"

"And is he a wizard?" Theo asked.

"Yes, he is," I said, knowing that it only really mattered in Theo's world if he was or not. "He actually comes from a fairly long line of wizards, but my mother – now, her family is interesting. It turns out that Mom is a No-Ma … sorry, a Muggle-born witch who was Sorted into Slytherin in 1971."

"Yer jokin'!" Theo gasped. "A Muggle-born, in Slytherin?!"

"She made friends with a few people in Slytherin on the Hogwarts Express," I explained, knowing that this was quite the shocker, "and she decided that it was easier to keep the friends she'd already made than to make new ones in another House. Through them, she met my dad and fell in love. Unfortunately, Dad died in the war before they could get married, but not before they'd made me."

Theo went quiet for a while, obviously thinking about what I'd said.

"Well," he finally said, "I, for one, am glad they didn't do it the other way around. Otherwise, we'd not be here together, ready to embark on a true cultural adventure!"

"Cheers to that, Theo!" I laughed as we rounded a corner and came upon a small but lively pub.

"Welcome to our first stop," Theo said as he gestured grandly to the building, "Shakespeare's Head!"

"It looks great," I said nervously, "but aren't we a little overdressed for this place?"

"A bit," Theo said with a nonchalant shrug, "but unless I get gravy on my shirt, it won' actually kill us!"

I laughed again as Theo opened the door and gently ushered me inside. He walked up to the host and asked for a reservation for "Nott and Black". We were escorted rather quickly to a slightly more private booth, perfect for a date. We each started out with a drink, Theo having a cup of black English breakfast tea and I having a cup of Café Americano (watered down espresso that's the consistency of drip coffee). We talked over the menu for about five minutes before our server came back with our drinks. Theo ended up ordering the Sausage and Mash meal while I got the Beef Burger topped with bacon and cheddar cheese. When Theo asked about it, I simply said, "British food is fantastic, but a good burger is pure Americana!"

The food was actually quite good, though I was surprised at the sheer size of the burger. It was so tall that they had to literally stick a knife in it to keep it from tumbling over! Over the meal, we talked about anything and everything – our favorite classes in school, our least favorite teachers, what each House was really like, what we wanted to do with our lives after school, etc.

"You want to be a Dark Artifact smuggler?!" I laughed after nearly choking on a bite of fries. "You must have some sort of death wish!"

"No more 'an someone 'oo wants to be an Auror!" Theo chuckled right back at me. "And I won' be smugglin' for the Death Eaters, oh no! I'll be reportin' to the Ministry, thanks very much!"

"Like that's any different these days!" I scoffed. "The Ministry all but answers directly to You-Know-Who now. I honestly won't be surprised if the Ministry gets overrun by Death Eaters by the time we're finished with school!"

Theo scoffed in agreement with me. "Complete wit' a puppet Minister an' all!"

"Exactly!" I said, holding up my cup of coffee in salute. Theo simply held up his teacup and tapped my cup with it before we both took a sip.

After sharing a slice of chocolate fudge cake, which somehow managed to get on the tip of Theo's nose and my chin, we walked out and headed for the theatre, whose back door was across the street from the pub's front door. Theo showed the usher our tickets and had us escorted to our seats, Seats 16 and 17 in Row A. There were four rows ahead of us that were apparently for overflow, but between our row and the first of the four rows, there was an entire row's worth of leg-room, which must have been heaven for Theo and his long legs.

At eight o'clock, on the dot, the ballet started and I was blown away. The story wasn't about a swan princess trapped under a spell by a wicked sorcerer – it was about a prince who was trapped under the spell of an elevated status, and the "swan" was his desire for freedom in the form of a male dancer!

It was incredible to watch, and strangely enough, the male dancers evoked the movements of a swan better than a petite little ballerina ever could. There was something so raw and powerful about how the male swans danced that just took my breath away. And the plight of the prince as he slowly slipped into madness because of how trapped he felt in his position reminded me achingly of my father's similar plight. He was trapped in his role as the preferred son of the House of Black and it led him deep into the darkest abyss, where he lost his own mind as the prince had. The horrifyingly tragic end of the ballet had me in silent tears, to which Theo responded by gently slipping his handkerchief into my hand for me to use.

After the play was tearfully applauded with a standing ovation, Theo and I walked back towards the park near Grimmauld Place. Theo walked on the edge of the sidewalk as he had before, this time with his arm around me instead of holding my arm.

"That affected ye greatly, didn't it?" he asked once we passed St. Marks.

"It did," I said quietly. "My dad … he was like the prince, trapped in society's role for him and unable to escape with anyone except Mom. He died trapped in it and left Mom alone in the world, vulnerable and mourning. It just … sucks that the greatest love stories are the ones that end badly."

"'The course of true love ne'er did run smooth,'" Theo intoned solemnly, drawing a small but surprised smile out of me.

"Hey, look at you, quoting Shakespeare!" I said delightedly.

He simply shrugged and said, "Got you to smile, didn' it?"

A few minutes later, we were at the park. At first, I wondered what we would do to part ways, but apparently Theo had it all covered. He simply held up my hand and gently kissed my knuckles.

"I had a lov'ly time, Reggie," he said kindly.

"I did, too," I replied. "Thanks for inviting me!"

"You're welcome," he said. "Keep in touch, and I'll see you at Hogwarts after break!"

"See you then!" I said before walking into the park.

I waited in the shadows just beyond the gate and waited until Theo left before heading back into Grimmauld Place with a soft smile on my face.

Even if this "relationship" I had with Theo was fake and as doomed as that of the Prince and his Swan, it was still the best date I'd ever gone on and I couldn't wait to see what else Theo might have up his sleeve.


End file.
